by Carlo Zen
Thus, Habergram ended up following the prime minister to the meeting room in his residence and was given the opportunity to observe something very interesting.
"Those irritating Communists have made a proposal. Surprisingly enough, it looks terribly sensible at a glance. Apparently, they want to carry out a joint operation."
The bleak looks on the eminent gentlemen's faces told Habergram their expressions were about to scrunch up.
Well, it was no wonder.
Anyone who heard the prime minister's next words---So, he began in a calm tone---would be sure to think the same.
"Gentlemen, I think we should take them up on it... How about you?"
A huge anti-Communist was saying they should do a joint operation with Communists?
Churbull's remark gave the common sense of all those in attendance a thorough beating. It was as if he had dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.
The first one to regain some composure and counter was the Chancellor of the Exchequer. He shook his head that there was no way and stood to make his argument. "If you'll excuse me, Prime Minister. Don't you think this calls for some caution?"
What followed that politely snarky euphemism was the frank protest of the foreign secretary, who was formally Habergram's boss. "...I'm sure international cooperation is important and all, but you're saying the Communists came up with something sensible? That sounds to me like you're saying you believe in miracles. Maybe we should limit our faith to God."
Though his background was that of a courteous diplomat, he couldn't quite keep the acid from his tongue when it came to the Communists. Or perhaps things were so bad that he felt it was futile to feign politeness. And Habergram knew that given his job, he had reason to think so.
"Why don't we try thinking about whether we can trust them?"
"It's not worth the effort!" someone shouted.
"A waste of time!" shouted someone else.
"Animals aren't loyal."
The comment someone spat was the opinion of all present. Or at least, it was the true feeling of a definite majority.
Communists employ pretty words and dirty tricks. It was precisely because they had something in common with them that the members of the Communist Party became the targets of their loathing.
Was any method justified as long as it led to a bright future?
Sane people called that madness.
Even Habergram, who was sitting there quietly listening, would have rather smiled for a photograph with a con man than shake hands with a Communist.
The prime minister who stood against the counterarguments must have known.
"I won't deny that. Go ahead and call them beasts, wild animals, barbarians."
These fellows impairing their judgment in the moonlight seeking the dawn of Communism... In the end, they wouldn't even acknowledge how monstrous the frantic madness of revolution was.
As far as Habergram could hear, the prime minister's policy of hating Communists hadn't changed one bit.
"You could even say it's like shaking hands with the devil. But," he continued, "their fighting power is invaluable."
Was he this reverent when he read a verse from the Bible?
This solemnly delivered line conveyed a fact these realists dedicated to the logic of the balance of power were forced to acknowledge.
To the Commonwealth, to these men who were proud to represent the Commonwealth, the truth was not to be twisted.
"For that reason, their suggestion is welcome. Gentlemen, in order to assist our ally fighting on the lines in the east, I think we should at least pretend to put our all into a seaborne feint."
As far as Habergram could tell, it was a de facto order. The prime minister's words that clearly stated, Send out the fleet! were brimming with a tenacious will.
But the navy was no less obstinate and thoroughly demonstrated that they were a crew who adhered to the traditions that produced Lord Churbull.
"I object to committing the navy fleet."
"...The air force's Strategic Bomber Command has run so many missions probing the imperial mainland's air defenses, they're sick of it. I should think that's distraction enough."
There's no way, said all the navy admirals, and they seemed serious about it.
"Even if the navy were to merely strike a position that seemed good for an amphibious landing and implied that we were going to send in commandos, that would already have an impact. Don't you think it would be shocking on a whole different level if we sent in a carrier strike group and faked a raid plus a landing?"
Even when the prime minister glared at them, the navy's resistance continued, unwavering.
It was impossible to tell whether they were being arrogant or competent, but that said, the Commonwealth---a naval power---had admirals known for their skill in coolheaded calculations of profits and losses.
"It will lead to the Empire strengthening its defenses in the long term." The comments spat by the admirals as if to say, You know it's true, were full of significance.
"As a result, we'll have one more problem to deal with when it comes time for our real counteroffensive. If the coast is fortified, His Majesty's troops will have to pay for each yard with their young blood. How dreadful." The navy representatives spoke in a trivial tone as they puffed their cigars, intensely sarcastic.
"I believe you know this already, but the navy isn't planning on approving any such folly. We're not a bunch of sadists."
Even after getting these remarks dripping with snark hurled at him by seasoned seamen...Churbull's will to fight blazed brightly---and not only against the Empire.
"The Federation's objective to draw imperial units away from the lines in the east is a sound strategic way of thinking about it." Not to be beaten at arrogance by anyone, Churbull puffed his cigar and blew violet smoke before continuing, as if he was speaking the obvious truth. "War is pointless if you lose. Helping out the Federation Army is a necessary expense to make sure we don't get any tactless visitors calling on our coastline in the future... It's fine to consider the needs of the coming counteroffensive, but in order to make that a reality, there are steps that need to be taken first. Am I wrong?"
When the prime minister glared at them...several of the naval officers looked away with a frown that said, I see the logic, but...
As far as Habergram could tell, it made sense for the admirals to be reluctant.
The Commonwealth Navy's main fleet had already committed some of its fleet destroyers to protect the trade route. They probably didn't want to be ordered to conduct harassment attacks that had nothing to do with the type of decisive naval battles they were interested in.
Ultimately, it would risk their ability to make use of the power of the full fleet. They were probably serious when they said they couldn't agree with such a plan.
"...But if we could at least strike the port where the enemy fleet is anchored."
The grudgingly offered alternative must have been one the navy had already carefully considered. And given how unwillingly he suggested it, it wasn't what they really wanted anyhow.
"Wouldn't a coastal strike be the optimal way to rouse the enemy's ground forces?"
"It's hard to evacuate troops after even a small-scale landing. Even a short operation would entail a large number of casualties. It's not easy to train commandos, you know."
"Considering the aerial strength of the imperial coastal forces, a sneak attack would be tricky. If we're going to choose such a high-risk, low-return option, wouldn't something high-risk, high-return make more sense?" One of the admirals pointed out that fact, apparently omitting the set phrase, With all due respect, Prime Minister, without thinking, but Churbull laughed it off from the get-go.
The navy faction remained, nevertheless, politely silent, and its attitude could be summed up in one word: unyielding. Whether it was due to an inclination toward risk avoidance or whatever it was, there had to be some reason they couldn't passively accept the proposal.
Hmm... Habergram was lost in thought when he noticed the navy representatives staring at him.
Shite. When he realized, it was already too late.
"It would be tricky without the cooperation of the intelligence agency. What do you think about it?"
You're dropping this in my lap now? he thought as he looked, as a formality, to the prime minister seated at the head of the table for permission to speak.
"Habergram."
"Yes, sir."
"It's as he said. I'd like Intelligence to support the navy. You can make full use of Ultra intel."
Dizzied by this development that didn't even permit him to complain about confidentiality, Habergram just barely managed to get some actual words to come out of his mouth. "...We'll do our best, sir. May we have a few days?"
"As long as the navy doesn't mind, that's fine with me."
To cut to the chase, the political request was prioritized in the end.
Based on an agreement made in Londinium, the Federation and Commonwealth decided to further their "international cooperation."
After worrying so much about protecting secrets versus what actions could be taken during operations, Habergram was stuck putting together a plan with the navy while making use of Ultra and all their other sources of intelligence.
Though there were slight complications, an operation using a carrier strike group in the west took shape. The core of the plan was assaults on military ports by the carrier planes, but it would also feature a capital ship bombardment. The objective was to threaten the Empire's western coast, thereby implying the opening of a second front and hopefully taking some imperial pressure off the east.
The name of the distraction was Operation Tea Party.
It was rumored that someone called it that in a bid to liven things up.
Meanwhile, the Federation and Commonwealth agreed to plan a future joint operation in former Entente Alliance territory based on a firm request from the army and navy.
In other words, the Commonwealth said, On the principle of reciprocity, you should sweat and bleed into the sea, too! and the Communists accepted without flinching.
Thus, the die was cast.
AROUND THE SAME TIME, ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN
Even a military city not so far from the outskirts of the imperial capital couldn't really be called a city of the Reich unless it had at least one café.
Fortunately, this café has enough space for Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff and her officers to chat after placing their dinner orders, newspapers held under their arms to read while they wait.
Lieutenant Colonel Uger introduced her to the spot, and she feels safe in calling it a good one. She's really starting to like the atmosphere.
A café that is comfortable but devoid of civilians who tend to have annoying misunderstandings is the perfect place for an officer back from the battlefield to reach for a newspaper. It's an officer's instinct to get a general handle on public opinion, the state of the world, and anything they may have missed.
I'm glad he introduced me to his place, thinks Tanya as she looks over multiple newspapers as if that's simply what one does.
They're filled with nothing but exaggerated articles written in an energetic tone. It's all good news and puff pieces.
As Tanya works her way through the papers, her expression grows ever gloomier.
She's smart enough to get it. She doesn't even try to hide her bitter expression when she looks up from the pages.
"It's all coverage about how we repelled the Commonwealth Navy's sneak attack. 'Repelled'? Sheesh, I can't believe we're getting sneak attacked by carrier-based planes and feeling proud of ourselves for driving them off," she gripes. She's disenchanted.
Air forces, of which carrier-based aircraft are representative, swarm and then pull out---that's what they do. It's only a matter of course that they pull out! I can't believe they're not ashamed to be like, Ya, we repelled them. It's about on the wordplay level of saying changing direction when you mean retreating.
If you read between the lines, it's easy to see what the imperial authorities are trying to hide.
"Apparently, we really didn't achieve much in that fight," Tanya grumbles and reflects on the weakening of the Empire's position in the west.
It would be different if cannons on land had exchanged fire with the naval cannons and repelled the ships themselves, but if we just intercepted the planes and drove them off...that's the same as saying they got away safely.
Yet, the military's really not going to admit that they got one over on us?
"I heard from a friend in the west that it was utter chaos."
"I bet it was," Tanya responds to First Lieutenant Serebryakov with a nod. They probably weren't prepared at all---it was a sneak attack.
In wartime, it's important to have other sources of information besides the sensationalized official news.
"We can't trust the newspapers. So what really happened?"
"The training mage company my classmate is with got scrambled... It seems the aerial fights in the west are less about attacking and more about defending these days."
"Wait a sec. A training company went up for an actual mission?" Tanya asks on a reflex.
Even if she could guess that the west is short on fighting power, it's pretty horrible if they are sending troops who are still learning how to fly into combat missions.
"Yes," answers Serebryakov, looking pale. "They don't get deployed elsewhere, but apparently, it's normal for them to go up to intercept."
"Talk about short on manpower."
Once you're at war, you can't expect to have enough of anything. Even so, this is pretty extreme.
It's enough to make me worry.
"...I've heard similar stories."
"Really, Lieutenant Wüstemann? I get that we're short on people, but...what would you say the average flight hours is for newbies before they get stationed somewhere?"
In the next moment, Tanya regrets asking him so casually.
"It seems like they're cutting it at thirty hours of combat-style flight. Including navigation and basic training, it's probably still only about a hundred hours."
He said it like it was no big deal, but the number can be described only as shocking.
Perhaps Wüstemann is so used to this that it doesn't seem strange to him.
But for the veteran magic officers, it's a different story. They all stare at him in bewilderment.
"...Are you sure that's right?"
"Yes, I'm pretty sure that's accurate. Is something wrong, Major Weiss?"
"That's horrible."
"Oh..."
The contrast between Wüstemann's uncomprehending look and Weiss's face like he'd sucked a dozen lemons is emblematic of, I suppose you could say, the gap between pre-and mid-war?
...I've heard that the manpower shortage is so serious that most of magic officer training has been cut out, but this makes it sound like barely any time is being allocated to training mages at all.
"This gives me a headache. It might be only a matter of time before all the aerial mage battalions are called dodo battalions."
"Things are rough for birds that can't fly. Let's at least aim to be penguins."
Weiss and Grantz try to lighten up the depressed mood with jokes, but it's not very funny.
That said, Tanya is encouraged to know that her subordinates have the wherewithal to be so considerate... The Salamander Kampfgruppe, with the 203rd as its nucleus, is blessed in that respect.
Sadly, the army on the whole isn't.
"Yeah, it probably is better if you can swim when you get shot down."
"Spoken as one who's used to being downed."
"I wish you'd say 'used to being shot.'"
Weiss, who has been shot through the shoulder once; Grantz, who's teasing him about it; and the other older hands definitely have war-nut tendencies, but that's not such a big problem for Tanya.
She thinks of it as what most people
would call individuality.
Individuality must be respected. As long as they're all competent officers, their individual personalities aren't something she needs to be concerned with.
"Lieutenant Wüstemann, asking you this is a bit awkward, but...do you think the new recruits will actually provide us with some fighting power?"
Wüstemann responds with a sober expression. "Honestly, I think it will be tough. They have their hands full simply flying, and they're dropping at a rate that would previously have been unimaginable."
Everyone had to heave a sigh at that news.
"And the number of mages who can stay in the air after being hit has been decreasing... We're seeing more newbies with wounds that would have been treatable die in crashes."
We invest in their education and then squander them due to a lack of polish. What a waste.
Tanya's opinion would probably strike Weiss, who spoke so emotionally, as a bit off, but that's also individuality.
Either way, they can agree it's not a good policy. This is so tricky, thinks Tanya for the umpteenth time.
"So the western air fleet that made its name on the Rhine front is a thing of the past now?" First Lieutenant Serebryakov sighs in spite of herself. She used to serve in the west, so it's only natural that she would feel mournful about the decline of the once powerful western armada.
"The way they're drawing off troops to send to the east, it can't be helped."
It's a sad conclusion. But Tanya has to defend the west. She glances at Weiss and he gets it.
"Still, it's pretty bold of them to come out swinging with a naval fleet. I guess it was large-scale recon-in-force?"
"Must have been." Tanya nods. Then she adds, "The Commonwealth chaps are raring to fight, so they came to make a move. Their expensive seagoing hotels had been no better than toys, but when they remembered they existed, they must have felt like making them do some work."
There are innumerable similar examples of military actions that were taken based purely on the strategic impact they would have. This latest attack must have been something similar.
It's quite easy to understand the Commonwealth Navy's aim of throwing imperial-occupied territories into confusion. It's basically an expanded application of the Raid on Scarborough.3