Nil Admirari

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Nil Admirari Page 26

by Carlo Zen


  "If they didn't expect to be branching out over long distances, concentrating the maintenance companies in the capital makes sense."

  "That's right, ma'am. And as a result, they don't have much experience doing maintenance on broken-down vehicles, which slows things down. At present, they really can't handle everything in a timely manner..."

  "Yeah." Tanya nods again. Whatever the reason, all she can do is accept it. "Well, it's a reasonable excuse. I guess we have no choice but to rethink the motorcycle company's rotation."

  It doesn't feel good to have limits placed on the use of an arm that should be mobile. A quick response unit that can't respond quickly is about as useless as it gets.

  Still, since it's not a problem of the soldiers but of gear, the one to blame is the commander.

  In other words, if someone is looking for the fool who couldn't get the proper support for their troops, you'll have to kick the ass of Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff.

  "I suppose all I can do is shamefully acknowledge it as my error and improve, but...well, saying it was unexpected is an excuse, huh?"

  Tanya quietly accepts that she stupidly misread the situation.

  Turning into the kind of dreadnought-class fool who can't accept their mistakes is intolerable to a human being's sense, both common and good. The world already has Being X---it doesn't need any more of that kind of idiot. Ultimately, if you're a rational, intelligent life-form, you're familiar with the concept of unbearable shame.

  "Alert from the Norden military district! Detecting what appears to be enemy mages! Sector B-39, position indefinite. The on-duty company needs to scramble---now!"

  At the sound of the voice of the apparently on-duty person who came flying into the room, Tanya returns to herself. Again? She clicks her tongue and stands with Serebryakov to rush over to headquarters.

  When they race into the room, Tanya eyes the huge map on the wall and thinks a bit. B-39 is pretty far away.

  "Grantz is the commander on duty to respond?"

  "Yes, Lieutenant Grantz's unit is on standby."

  On her feet before the map about to give the order for them to move out, Tanya, somewhat belatedly in her tired brain, feels something sticking. When she considers it, she suddenly realizes.

  Caution---preventable accidents should be prevented. Committing an error out of negligence in order to save a little work is proof of incompetence. As long as there's a line of foolishness that mustn't be crossed, it's only natural to take precautions.

  They seem to be hiding out in the area at the limit of our advance.

  "...They sure picked an annoying spot. How far away can you get?"

  There must be mages hiding out there, too. The Federation and Commonwealth combined unit is annoyingly cunning. Originally, we figured we could obliterate the enemy mage units primarily with the iron fist of the Salamander Kampfgruppe, but they continue to elude us.

  I'm getting sick of chasing around these guys who pop up to assert their existence now and then by rampaging in a remote area.

  "We don't have enough cards in our hand, and plus, isn't this just more wasted effort?"

  If she sends out First Lieutenant Grantz's unit, they won't be back for a while. We'll be out our scramble reserve.

  "Lieutenant...after the scramble group leaves, are there personnel on deck to take their place?"

  "No, there haven't been any orders from Control. I imagine that means we're supposed to handle it ourselves, but..."

  "Nrrrgh." Tanya growls in spite of herself. "What the heck?"

  "Huh?"

  "...They only let us rest a few hours."

  It takes a lot to not click her tongue in frustration. I guess I have to admit it, she thinks, keenly aware of her carelessness.

  The lack of sleep is starting to impinge, to a startling degree, on her ability to think rationally.

  Lowered ability to focus, more and more scattered thoughts, and an increase in minor mistakes---the result of which is a large accident that should have been possible to avoid.

  There's no magic cure for exhaustion. Or maybe there is something, but only if she can put up with severe side effects, like with the Elinium Type 95.

  The Type 95...? Tanya turns to her orb and sighs. The dual-core orbs, like the Type 97 the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion uses, perform well, but they tire you out that much more. The Type 95 is far worse, but it's still a matter of degree.

  "Regulation rest time is the bare minimum. You're saying to put sleep-deprived mages on standby for scramble orders?" she snaps and silently begins fingering her cap.

  The urge: I want to throw it.

  The struggle: I have to control myself.

  Ultimately, the conclusion is obvious. It goes without saying that reason must be upheld. But even if logic conquers emotions, it's natural for obnoxious feelings to come up.

  "What should I have them do?" Her adjutant's attitude reflects that she has a proper grasp of Tanya's intentions.

  "Tell Lieutenant Grantz to hold off."

  "Ma'am?"

  "Have him get one platoon ready to go scouting." Upon giving that message, she speaks into the receiver quickly but calmly. "Norden Control, this is Salamander 01. I object to scrambling an entire company. I'd like to keep it to a platoon for scouting purposes."

  "Salamander 01, explain your reasoning."

  She holds herself back from spitting, It's simple.

  If the controller she's talking to is only adhering to the manual, it would be incredibly rude to dump her bad mood on him.

  "If we send a whole mage company over a few partisans and mages, we'll be the first to give out." Does her controlled voice sound like one a pro wouldn't have to be ashamed of? "I understand that piecemeal commitment is foolish, but my elite troops can do a hit-and-run. I'm confident in that as their commander."

  Given the principle of selection and concentration, preserving our spare energy seems like the wisest move.

  The bold, aggressive combat mind-set is for the battlefield. If we foolishly dodge like an enraged bull, we risk getting a sharp jab.

  "I find the current situation of accumulating exhaustion undesirable, so what do you think?"

  "Norden Control, roger. Send up a platoon."

  "Thank you, Norden Control."

  Maybe it's appropriate to celebrate that achievement with a sigh. Given the circumstances, that's a step in the right direction. Identify your problem and improve things---that is always a human's task.

  "All right," Tanya says. "Tell Lieutenant Grantz to send out that platoon. He himself should stay on standby."

  It's great that Serebryakov acknowledges immediately. Tanya is about to think how it's all due to good discipline when her cheery mood is abruptly dampened.

  "He has a suggestion."

  Tanya looks up at her adjutant, who seems to be in an awkward spot.

  She doesn't even send the What is it? look. Serebryakov is a far better messenger than most. If she wasn't able to reprove him, then it must mean he's on the phone ready to tell me he can't accept this.

  I must be cursed. Are Being X and his ilk at it again? When will they learn? Tanya asks for the phone and preemptively shoots down what Grantz is about to say. "Lieutenant, there's no need for that commander-leads-the-charge mind-set. Is there anything else?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "So then you have nothing to say to me."

  "Colonel, I'm sorry, but I have no intention of turning into an easy-chair commander! Please let me go!"

  It's fine and good that he's not shrinking back before the enemy.

  But the diverse array of enemies we face requires different fighting styles. Brave and bold are great, but calm and collected are also essential qualities for an officer to have. When combating an intelligent enemy, thinking is paramount.

  Even a commander in the rear isn't just taking it easy. "Haaah," Tanya sighs and continues. "You're saying the commander of the company should leave the main forces behind? In the army, we cal
l that reckless bravery. Even if waiting is hard, flying on ahead to make things easier on yourself won't be tolerated."

  "Sending a platoon is no different from officer recon! Please!"

  He must really mean it.

  And Tanya doesn't want to stifle her subordinate's motivation. Even if she can't shake the concern over his impatience, he has piled up some experience.

  It's not like he can't do it, thinks Tanya, weighing her options. If she has him sortie, she's down one company commander and he'll get more tired. Honestly, she would rather save him.

  But she also has to think twice about quashing his volunteer spirit.

  "It's a search-and-destroy mission, but there's no need to go chasing them too far. Can you prioritize gaining an understanding of the situation?"

  "Of course! It's okay, then?"

  "Unless those partisans are total numbskulls, they won't hang around. If they do, you can have the rest of the company sortie."

  "Understood!"

  It would probably be tactless to ask if he really understood.

  "It'd be great if a chance like that really did come up."

  Grantz probably understands what she's trying to say. Playing tag with the partisans is tough, even with the Salamander Kampfgruppe.

  If we can fight, we can win.

  That's if we get the chance to fight.

  "...You're not to go chasing them, Lieutenant."

  "Of course not. You can count on me."

  "Good. I expect no headlong rushes."

  "Yes, ma'am! I'm heading out to respond now, so please excuse me!"

  "Good luck." Tanya hangs up and addresses her adjutant. "Lieutenant Serebryakov, coffee. Strong, please."

  To switch gears, she'll treat the symptom. If you ingest too much caffeine, it affects you less. Then, since it's less effective, you ingest a whole ton more and get caught in a vicious cycle.

  Even if I'm not sure how many gallons of coffee I've flooded my stomach with, I can sense the undeniable fact that my thoughts are constrained by chronic lack of sleep.

  I know all that. At the point Tanya is about to think, Well, it's better than too much alcohol..., she gets confused.

  It's not pleasant to catch yourself stacking up excuses. In short...it's a bad sign.

  "This is a hotbed of human error."

  Knowing that and lamenting that nothing can be done is simply more whining. It's an excuse I make to myself. Justifications should be for other people. Under no circumstances should you be using them on yourself. If you start lying to yourself, then you're the same as a fool who has no choice but to fake it.

  If I'm going to grow that weak-minded, I'd rather blow my brains out and get it over with. It would be a necessary act in accordance with intelligence and reason---and a lot more pleasant than continuing to disgrace myself.

  Thus, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff fires up her overly tired brain to show that though she may be a squishy human, she's sentient.

  "...I'm too busy."

  A summary of the situation reveals the issue.

  "The root of all our problems is that we don't have enough people."

  In other words, the burden on personnel is too heavy, and whenever someone drops out, the weight that falls on each person who remains increases proportionally in a vicious cycle.

  The solution is incredibly simple.

  "Either a reduction of labor or an increase in hands is unavoidable..."

  Doesn't have to be anything fancy.

  If there aren't enough people, we either need to add some or make the work go more efficiently.

  That said, Tanya is plenty aware that carelessly taking the route of maximizing individual productivity in a personnel affairs way is dangerous in a military setting.

  "Yeah, armies ultimately have to be formed with the assumption of attrition in mind... It's a challenge to tailor them to their environment, too..."

  Human capital will be lost sooner or later. That's a given, since humans are creatures fated to die whether in times of war or peace. Unlike economic agents, which are guaranteed the eternal life of legal personhood, organic organisms must eventually cease functioning.

  If gods do exist, they should recycle investments made in human capital a bit more effectively to improve productivity.

  Unfortunately, it's self-evident that gods do not exist.

  Ahhh, there Tanya reins in her scattered thoughts.

  "I guess assigning solo shifts is out of the question. The issue around here wouldn't even be robbers coming for the till but partisans. Getting burst in on by those fully armed, humorless guys would be terrible."

  People die even during peace, but they start to go at a horrific pace during a war. Even laborers who have a relatively good chance of working until retirement end up falling while they are still reliably part of the labor pool in their twenties and thirties during wartime. Not a shred of respect for social capital anywhere to be found.

  "Then we just have to increase the number of hands by any means possible."

  The Imperial Army has already tapped all the population pools that can be mobilized, but it still has two options.

  One is to begin the general conscription of women. That said, they've already been mobilized in the industrial sector. Considering current circumstances, we're not at the point that we need combat personnel at the expense of manufacturing capacity.

  Thankfully, the Empire's situation isn't that catastrophic. Even if arriving there is a battle against time, we're holding out for now.

  The more hopeful option is to employ the as-of-yet-untapped human resource pools of foreigners. Things like putting prisoners to work or recruiting voluntary troops are permitted under the law of war. There's a lot we could do in the realm of the legal.

  "So getting caught up in personnel-intensive counterinsurgency battles is putting the cart before the horse. Rather than charging in here to clean up the remaining enemies, it would be better to do an operation of gentle persuasion in the east... Well, it's too late to say that now, but..."

  Going in with no plan invites utter disaster. The Empire's lost time and opportunity costs are both tremendous. It's not even clear if we'll be able to recover from this.

  The way it handled the former Entente Alliance territory and the Principality of Dacia are model failures. The Imperial Army took a textbook approach of making use of the local government organizations as a rule while attempting to maintain peace and order.

  As a result, there were no lethal failures, but neither has there been success. To put it another way, the Imperial Army is dabbling in governance without a clear strategic objective. It's pretty arrogant to expect anything good to come of that.

  "I can't believe we're going about setting up government agencies and ruling so haphazardly... I'm so torn whether to celebrate our excellent coping skills or lament our lack of principles."

  After stacking up the three nos of no policy, no plan, and no strategy, the people in the thick of it in the Empire continue to exhibit their brilliance at engineering appearances.

  "I guess I should be happy that we're managing to cover for the strategic-level errors on the tactical level?"

  Nnngh... At that point, Tanya has to swallow the bitter feelings that come up.

  It's all just treating the symptoms.

  It's as stupid as using painkillers to ignore the cause of the pain.

  What is required as soon as possible in the swiftest manner is a measure that addresses the cause, even if it's invasive.

  "Surgery that kills the patient is a problem, but so is leaving them to their own devices."

  Like Machiavelli said, half-assing it is the worst thing you can do. Ain't that the truth? As Tanya, I'm feeling that keenly in the present progressive.

  Whatever the form it takes, the Empire is an occupier.

  No matter how the Imperial Army struggles, it's an instrument of violence that has no hope of being loved.

  Even if it does a really good job, the best i
t can pray for is to be showered in countless politely bitter sentiments.

  In that case, it's probably better to double down and be feared.

  "...So there's really no plan..."

  The current state of affairs is simply letting things run their course and us dealing with problems as they appear.

  When the Imperial Army occupied the former Entente Alliance territory, it didn't have a plan for how to govern. Our specialty is the interior lines strategy!

  This is a humiliating description, but...it has a hermit's temperament.

  The Imperial Army never imagined rushing outside and occupying land just as soon as it could cut it off. In other words, there was almost no research done beforehand. If you ransacked the General Staff's classified document storage, you probably wouldn't find a single page on foreign expeditions or plans for governing occupied territory.

  "We're winning, so no one is thinking. But what'll happen if things go on like this?"

  Things will continue to be dealt with in a haphazard way.

  Even a capable organization will get worn down without a clear strategy. When the Imperial Army finds itself unable to gloss over things any longer, it will literally collapse.

  "In the end, it's a question of organizational theory."

  The Imperial Army presides over military affairs. As the country's instrument of violence, that's a perfectly accurate thing for it to do.

  Sadly, that's the issue.

  Imperial authorities haven't reached a consensus on whether war is a military affair or a political one.

  Even more vexingly, you can probably say that they haven't even had the debate about how to link the military and the political.

  The Imperial Army is in a totally Hannibal state.

  On the battlefield, it can win.

  But it knows how to take advantage of victory only after it's reached its limits.

  Having thought that far in silence, Tanya sighs. "...Strategic victory is a long ways off. It's not even within my grasp anymore. There's nothing I can do about this deadlock."

  Hannibal kept on winning.

  Everyone has to admit his victory at Cannae goes down as the root of the fine art of war. But he couldn't win all the way. I feel a strange affinity with the part of history where though he was winning, he was ground up, like Pyrrhus, under the weight of Rome. If I could, I'd like to hear what Maharbal thought of it.

 

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