Deus lo Vult

by Carlo Zen

  Tanya was bitter when she first learned of the decision for her to train in the boring yet perilous north, but it just goes to show that there’s no telling in life what could be a blessing in disguise. It’s a bit late, but I should probably mail thank-you letters to my instructors with my latest updates as soon as possible. I have to build up my connections.

  I can already foresee a rosy career. Even in the midst of battle, Tanya is in visibly high spirits as she spots for artillery on the battlefield.

  “Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Please respond.”

  “This is Norden Control. Loud and clear.”

  The exploding shells below are satisfactorily laying waste to the Entente Alliance infantry who have crossed the national boundary. No matter how rugged the mountainous Norden terrain, once artillery is fully deployed, the soldiers casually advancing on the border become nothing more than targets. All the more so if the lay of the land leaves them exposed.

  “Fairy 08, roger. Enemy currently under suppressive fire. I believe we’ve neutralized them. Enemy infantry is breaking ranks.”

  Maintaining a suitable distance, the exceptional artillery batteries fire at unarmored targets under the guidance of an observer in an area where ballistics data was precalculated beforehand. It’s impossible that the barrage can fail to wipe them out. Down below, the swarms of once orderly infantry fall prey to the howitzers all too easily once they begin fleeing in all directions. As Tanya confirms the situation through a pair of binoculars, it becomes clear that any more will just be a waste of ammo.

  “Norden Control, roger. Advance to patrol line two and guide suppressive fire against the enemy’s primary infantry.”

  “Fairy 08, roger. Will advance and continue observation mission.”

  Her dispassionate exchange with Control is so free of noise that Tanya quietly thinks to herself, I didn’t expect radios to work so well in actual combat conditions. The sky is overcast as far as her blue eyes can see, so it isn’t as though weather will hinder enemy signal jamming. Yet the noise level can be termed the barely perceptible “clear.” The signal is so clean it’s almost ridiculous that she’s carrying the massive airman radio set, which she was issued in anticipation of poor reception due to magnetic abnormalities caused by Norden mineral deposits. Tanya passes over the Entente Alliance’s scrambling troops and feels genuinely puzzled as she advances in order to set her sights on the persevering remnants of the enemy army.

  Seriously, what is the Entente Alliance trying to do? If they want to be targets for live-ammunition exercises, they should have said so. I would have volunteered to strafe instead of observe if I knew we were going to be hunting for dodoes instead of turkeys. The ones on bombing duty in this fight have escorts and control of the air, and if that isn’t enough, they get dibs on the juiciest targets. I’m so jealous, I can hardly stand it.

  “Fairy 08 to Norden Control. I’ve advanced to the designated position.”

  “Norden Control, roger. We see that. Relaying the situation to the artillery now. Continue to observe points of impact.”

  “Fairy 08, roger. Remaining on artillery observation until ordered otherwise. Over.”

  “Norden Control, roger.”

  THE SAME DAY, ENTENTE ALLIANCE, OVER NORDLAND

  Dear God, why? How can this be happening? Lieutenant Colonel Anson Sue found himself asking the heavens, his rugged snow-tanned face contorted in distress. The volleys of Imperial Army heavy artillery resounded across the sky he had flown so many times as an Entente Alliance aerial mage. The battle unfolding below was completely one-sided. No, any sane soldier would describe it as a massacre, not a battle. It wasn’t even an advance in soft-skinned vehicles—spongy infantry had marched in formation as if on parade through the wide-open hillocks toward a carefully arranged artillery position.

  “This isn’t what we were told! The bastards are opening fire!”

  “Help! Medic! Hurry! Get over here!”

  “Pull back! Retreat! Put down a smoke screen!”

  “My arm! I lost my arm!”

  “We still don’t have air support…!”

  “Command! Command, what’s going on?! What’s the situation?!”

  The “border,” according to the Empire, or the “provisional demilitarized zone,” according to the Entente Alliance, was a type of pseudo-border established under the Treaty of Londinium.6 If the Entente Alliance forces were simply going to waltz over the national boundary and strike the ever-diligent Imperial Army positions head-on, they should have known this would happen. No matter what was going on in the politicians’ heads, the signals coming in over the radio proved that soldiers all across the battlefield were paying for an irredeemable political mistake with their lives—that’s the soldiers paying with their lives.

  “…Damn those bureaucrats to hell!”

  The economy was in a slump, the gap between classes was widening, and the unemployment rate wasn’t improving at all. Domestic problems that the Entente Alliance constantly faced threatened to throw it into a grave crisis due to destabilizing centripetal forces. The government was paying a horrifyingly high price for encouraging nationalism and exclusionism as a solution to those problems. No, the true horrors were yet to come.

  This spelled war—worse yet, a war the Entente Alliance had no hope of winning.

  As such, Lieutenant Colonel Sue slung vulgar curses at the officials as he flew. He condemned them for their mistake in continuing to fan the flames of nationalism, refusing to face reality.

  The Treaty of Londinium was an agreement regarding the border dispute between the Empire and the Entente Alliance with terms that were just barely tolerable, decided with the Commonwealth as a mediator. The provisional demilitarized zone that divided the disputed territory was in reality a national border, with administrative rights over the region serving as collateral to hold them to the agreement. All the treaty did was make a provisional show of respect for the assertions of both parties out of consideration for the Entente Alliance’s claim of dominion.

  “What part of this is ‘just hiking under pressure’?!”

  In short, the Entente Alliance was free to proclaim its actions as justified on the domestic front, but the treaty showed that in reality, the international community practically universally sided with the Empire. No matter how vehemently the domestic dreamers shouted that the territory was officially under dispute and fell within the Entente Alliance’s sovereignty, others saw it as nothing more than the wailing of sore losers. Of course no one would take them seriously.

  “Hiking?! This is their idea of hiking?!”

  The Entente Alliance sent its military to parade around so it could patrol its own domain? Arbitrarily? That made no sense. Apparently all those politicians had started falling for their own publicity somewhere along the line. Sue wished someone would say it was all just a bad joke.

  Some government spokesperson, or perhaps a salary thief only capable of spewing useless propaganda, actually had the balls to describe this invasion as a “highly organized hiking exercise under pressure” at a press conference. It was appallingly thoughtless.

  “Cunningham! What’s the status of our remaining forces?!”

  “Sorry, sir. The signal is unstable and only getting worse. I can’t get a grasp on the situation…”

  The troops were in utter chaos. Of course they were. There was no way anyone could remain calm after mindlessly crossing the border under the misconception that war wasn’t a possibility—only to find the Imperial Army waiting in full formation to intercept and butcher them. No doubt this folly would go down in history.

  “What about the command centers? Airspace Control or the Combat Direction Center is fine. Can you reach anybody?”

  “The lines are a mess…and I can’t call them, anyway; we weren’t even assigned the right frequency.”

  First Lieutenant Cunningham, who was considered a veteran even in Sue’s outfit, scowled as he fiddled with the long-range radio over his shoulders. The s
ignals were tangled enough to stump a skilled veteran of the skies—proof that the Entente Alliance had kicked this operation off carelessly. If it weren’t Sue’s own country, no doubt he would have been flabbergasted.

  “They would never violate the border without properly transitioning to a war footing first. Clearly, the Entente Alliance government is merely practicing brinkmanship diplomacy. At least, the Empire wouldn’t play such a dangerous game if we weren’t ready to risk war.” A quote from an Imperial Army General Staff spokesman that Sue had read two days ago in a newspaper article. That comment said it all.

  At most, the Entente Alliance’s brinkmanship should have extended only to showing signs of increased military activity to discern how the Empire would react. The spokesman had offered a reasonable opinion, his face pulled into the scowl of a man who had bitten into something extremely unpleasant. Who would have thought the Entente Alliance would undertake military actions that risked the fate of the nation without preparing first?

  “I don’t care if you use short-range communications. At this point, you can hook up directly with the ground forces. We’re gonna help the remaining troops retreat.”

  “Roger.”

  For better or for worse, Sue’s battalion had been in a position at the rear when the border violation incident started. They were reorganizing after suffering heavy casualties in repeated irregular skirmishes near the national boundary. For units the size of a company or larger, it was possible to return to the capital to reorganize. Sue misread the situation precisely because he was often involved in operations that couldn’t be written down in official records… If he and his men could fall back, then surely it meant the country had no intention of going to war; it meant the government was up to its usual propaganda.

  Sue and his men—who were worthy of being called the best, even among the Entente Alliance’s frontline troops—had no shortage of profanity to describe the sheer idiocy of the politicians and military statesmen. They were fully aware that their government was a cesspool of imbeciles. They just didn’t realize the administration would pull a move so stupid it was beyond repair.

  “Darton, sorry, but could you get in contact with the other troops? I want to get a solid idea about where we stand.”

  Due to their starting position, they had been too late to react and were now faced with the impossible task of helping troops retreat from hopelessly superior enemy forces while essentially blind. To make matters worse, not only were they unable to reach the designated forward controller, but things were so chaotic that they weren’t even receiving support from the Combat Direction Center, which existed to guarantee at least the minimum necessary coordination between the mage troops, air corps, and ground forces.

  “If necessary, we’ll rendezvous with reinforcements. Platoons, in the event you get split up and can’t regroup, you have the option of gathering into groups under whatever authority you can find.”

  “Commander, I got through!”

  Sue snatched the proffered transceiver. From a brief exchange, he learned that the situation on the ground was completely unmanageable. The Entente Alliance was paying for its mistake of charging into wartime with the same chain of command they used during peacetime by losing any semblance of control. It was plain for anyone to see.

  “Understood. In any event, we can’t fight a war without some leadership. We need to do something about the bombardment causing all this turmoil. Agreed?”

  The situation was so awful that instead of putting up a unified resistance, it was every unit for themselves. Even among their fellow soldiers on the battlefield with whom they could communicate, albeit barely, it was impossible to find a unit that saw the whole picture and possessed enough leadership to take the necessary measures.

  “I fully agree. The artillery positions are certain to be fortified…but what about the observers?”

  Sue had to agree that the most realistic and practical support he could offer, given the forces currently at his disposal, was to interfere with the enemy’s indirect fire by eliminating their observers.

  “Commander Sue! This just in from Ground Division Six. We can still observe and signal!”

  “Great! See if they can find enemy artillery spotters.”

  As luck would have it, regaining communications with this division, which was maintaining discipline by a thread as it retreated, offered just the opportunity they needed.

  “…Bingo! They’re sending the numbers!”

  Several observer mages were flying solo, not even bothering to conceal their locations. Based on the frequency of the encoded messages being sent at regular intervals, they were definitely encoded wavelengths unique to artillery spotters transmitting intel.

  “Alone as expected, eh? They’re taking us too lightly.”

  “Maybe, but aren’t they behind a massive warning line?”7

  Sue was aware of that. He wanted to groan, watching the way the imperial air corps and mage troops took the sure and easy route in the battle for air supremacy with a coordinated interception network. Clearly, they must have set up an air defense line adequate enough to allow support elements to fly solo.

  “I swear, we’re nuts to go to war with a military powerhouse. I should’ve taken my family and run.”

  “Commander Sue, I bet those imperial dogs are over there scratching their heads, wondering if war is supposed to be this easy.”

  “Good point. Let’s hope they’ve let their guard down.”

  As he thought about how horrible everything had gotten, all Sue could do was turn to God.

  …Honestly, God, where in the world did we go wrong?

  The mission assigned to Tanya is important, but it’s a monotonous job. All there is to do is keep an eye on impacting rounds with a radio and a set of observer gear. The task of processing the data in real time falls on the crew of the artillery arm that receives it. An operator at Norden Control provides the tactical commands.

  The fact that we’re winning probably has something to do with it, but my duty entails nothing more than watching the imperial artillery employ air bursts and time on target missions with praiseworthy expertise. Indeed, the Empire is a rising military force among the major world powers. And the army buoying that reputation is supplied with relatively new equipment, so much so that they’ve gone beyond believing in firepower supremacy and more in obeying it as accepted doctrine.

  The Empire believes “bayonets never lie, but neither do resources.” Accordingly, artillery is the Imperial Army’s “gods of war.” For someone like Tanya as well, these are deities much more absolute than some sketchy being who arbitrarily proclaims itself the supreme God.

  After all, everyone on our side has been on alert for signs of war despite initial doubts. In other words, we were fully prepared to maintain air supremacy with an anti–air mage surveillance network in place. If I report any sporadic resistance or a glimmer of anti–air fire to the gods of war, they’ll flatten the area with a single call.

  This is a safe and sound job that’s nonetheless well respected. I hope it stays like this. After all, I get to enjoy a prime view of the army’s victory with a leading role in the firing of so much iron that it makes the Fuji Firepower Review seem cute.

  It is by no means unpleasant to gaze out over our army effortlessly crushing the enemy from the secured safety of the sky. Artillery churns things up, then the infantry and armored vehicles advance in its wake. Us mages are in charge of air-ground support and combat air patrol. Soaring above the battlefield, the mixed fighter-bomber squadron go ahead as the vanguard for deep penetration. It’s hard to say if things would go this smoothly even in a drill. Cheers to the General Staff for pulling this off so magnificently. I can’t thank them enough for giving me such a safe and easy way to climb up the ranks.

  I know it’s a bit irreverent, but I’m afraid I have a hard time agreeing with General Lee’s quote, “It is well that war is so terrible, otherwise we would grow too fond of it.” For me, war is such a blast
that I don’t know what to do with myself.

  “Norden Control to Fairy 08. Artillery commencing observed fire. Send your data.”

  “This is Fairy 08. Initial points of impact confirmed. Sending now. No need to adjust fire. I say again, no need to adjust fire. Initiate fire for effect.”

  First and foremost, our artillery is incredible for how it adheres to provided data with such astounding accuracy. The crews have to be awfully skilled to pull off everything from initial fire to consistent near hits with artillery integrated at the field corps level. Indeed, their performance is proof that the Empire isn’t regarded as a military powerhouse for nothing. As a result, my workload is extremely light. Everything’s great.

  “Norden Control, roger. Watch out for stray shots. We plan to begin concentrated fire in two hundred. Over.”

  “Fairy 08, roger. Out.”

  I move west to distance myself somewhat from the battlefield as I ascend to a slightly higher altitude. I doubt the artillery’s aim would slip that easily, but it would be outrageous if an ally inadvertently struck me down with shrapnel. And seeing as this is going to be concentrated fire, there’ll be a whole slew of shells coming. The artillery guys will have a blast firing their hearts out, and I’ll be looking on in envy. I need to stay out of their way so we can all enjoy doing our jobs.

  Before long, the artillery begins launching such a relentless hail of iron that it flushes every war movie scene from my memory. As far as I can see from my spot in the sky, black specks are raining down all over toward the earth, and immediately after their explosive flames dissipate, chunks of what used to be humans fly in every direction before vanishing.

  “Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Fire mission impact confirmed. Repeat.”