NOVEMBER 12, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, AT ILDOAN BORDER COMMAND
The Imperial Army's war machine was a picture of perfection at the start of the Empire's campaign in Ildoa. Having been baptized by years of intense combat, the Imperial Army's prewar army was already history. It's not as if the Ildoan Army hadn't updated their training and education with modern combat techniques. Any claims to the contrary were false.
The Ildoan Army was, unfortunately, outclassed in every sense of the term.
The Imperial Army had learned how to fight a modern war by paying the bloody tuition on the battlefield. The indisputable disparity between the Empire, which had been christened by a continuous stream of blood and steel, and the forever-neutral Ildoan Army quickly made itself evident. A nation long at war, its army understood implicitly what it meant to fight. This made for a difference as brutal as it was stark when it came to understanding modern warfare. Any amount of effort put forward or attempt to resist an enemy invasion meant nothing without truly knowing what it meant to fight an enemy.
The Ildoan Army, which knew peace, was pushed back by the Imperial Army, which knew war. Caught up in the maelstrom of chaos, the situation for the troops stationed in the alpine mountains in charge of defending Ildoan Border Command was as terrible as it was for the entire Ildoan Army. With the forces being unready to mobilize at the start of the hostilities on its borders, the Ildoan troops had to go up against the Imperial Army unprepared and short on manpower.
This amounted to a military nightmare. There was an incredible difference between troops accustomed to war and those who enjoyed prolonged peace. By the time the latter had awakened to the reality of war, its flames were already knocking at their nation's door—along with the battering ram of Imperial heavy artillery and long-distance railway guns.
A valiant resistance, and nothing more, was the most the Ildoan Army could hope to pull off.
The first person to quickly come to this unfortunate conclusion was none other than Colonel Calandro himself.
For better or worse, Colonel Calandro knew firsthand how this usually played out, for he had once joined the Lergen Kampfgruppe in the east to study its tactics right next to the experts who coordinated them.
"Son of a bitch…"
When he saw them, he thought their methods were insane; their insistence on prioritizing penetration above all else dumbfounded him. He had seen firsthand the torrent of violence they struck the Federation Army with.
"This is all just a show. Their real goal is to penetrate our defensive line.
Fuck, fuck, fuck."
His usual refined demeanor disappeared as his mind raced to create an accurate picture of the war front. The enemy forces were a spear that had breached their border and was racing for their heart.
The tip of a spear may be sharp, but that's not the case for its flat side.
"Should we flank them?"
No, they couldn't organize such an attack amid the chaos that had broken out. Even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to—he wasn't their commanding officer!
They needed to order a retreat, an immediate and organized retreat. Ideally, they could make like the Federation and employ a scorched earth tactic to burn anything that could be useful to their enemies. Decisive action needed to be taken quickly to have any chance of dulling the Empire's blade.
He quickly formulated the advice he would give, only to shrug and laugh at himself when he realized that it likely wouldn't be accepted.
"This is a terrible strategy to have to take…"
He already knew the response he would get if he advised the commanding officer, whose responsibility was to defend the country, to burn everything and escape as quickly as possible.
"All I can do is give advice on the situation… How frustrating."
His advice was useless if he knew it wouldn't be accepted. He knew ways to fight against the Imperial forces, but he was a lowly General Staff officer who was merely placed at the border. What he needed was authority.
Though irritated at his lack of power, he faithfully carried out his duty. He was patriotic enough to make his case directly to the commanding officer.
I knew this was how it would turn out.
Although his suggestion was appropriate for the strange circumstances of the war that had been forced onto them, it also collided with his commander's respectable sensibilities.
"You must be mad?! You want us to retreat?!" "It's what must be done, General!"
"Choose your words wisely, Colonel Calandro! Your shame should keep you from even suggesting something like that!"
His attempt to persuade the general was fruitless.
The general was red with rage at the suggestion. He shook his head in flat- out refusal. The general for border command would make it clear that he was a good person with the next thing he said.
"Colonel Calandro! The Royal Ildoan Army needs to defend its territory!" "We can't throw away everything for a single position! You must give the
orders to retreat!"
"This is Ildoa! There are no parts of Ildoa we'll give up without a fight!
We are Ildoans, damn it!"
The general reprimanded Colonel Calandro with a bloodcurdling scream. Any sensible member of an organization would shrink in the face of such rage from a superior, but the colonel's duty was still his duty. As his sense of professional duty outweighed his common sense, he would share the wicked principles of war with his superior.
"General! Our enemy is a carefully tuned instrument of violence built to fight this war! They are a barbaric military state that has lost all conception of politics and diplomacy, but there is still one thing they excel at, and that is war!"
"So you want us to just surrender our border?!"
"We are no longer in a position to maintain it! Right now, we have to save what we can!"
"Our forces are resisting all over the border! We've managed to push
most of them back where we've engaged them!"
The commander slammed his fist on a map that showed he was partially correct. Most of the Imperial forces were indeed engaged with several border defense divisions.
But it meant nothing—the general was wrong.
"General! These engagements are nothing more than a distraction from their main target! While they have our forces mired in combat, they will try to destroy our chain of command!"
"We need to defend our posts and find a way to counterattack! How could you forget such basic defense principles at a time like this, Colonel?!"
"That's not the issue here!" Colonel Calandro shouted in rebuttal. His entire body shook with frustration at his inability to convey his point to the commander. It could be heard in his voice as they shared a passionate shouting match.
Just as things were getting heated, an intruder came rushing into the room, forcing its door open with a loud swing.
"What the hell?!"
Colonel Calandro reflexively put himself between the general and the intruder while questioning who he was. It didn't take him long, though, to realize he had seen the man before.
"First Lieutenant, what is it this time?"
It's that messenger from before… This man really needs to learn to maintain his composure.
It was growing apparent that the man wasn't suited for such a high-stress job.
"G-General! There isn't any time, General!"
So panicked that his words weren't making any sense. Colonel Calandro offered the man a seat to calm him down, but the officer shook his head furiously and continued speaking as if he was in a race against time.
"Th-the enemy panzer forces are…"
"Did they break through our line? Calm yourself down and explain the situation to the general."
Colonel Calandro looked at the map on the desk, expecting that the forces they were waiting for were on their way. It was exactly how it was back in the east.
The Imperial Army's panzer units were the same as the Lergen
Kampfgruppe he'd seen once before. They were going to find a weakness in their defensive line and use it against them to pull a tactical victory from a single battle.
"Be more precise with your reporting! Where are they?"
In response to the demands to clarify himself, all the officer did was point down in a general direction.
"…Th-they're here."
Where is here? Where is this man pointing? Does he have any idea how precious our time is?!
"Point at the map, man, the map!"
Colonel Calandro's angry demands were met with words that came flowing out of the man like a broken dam.
"They're right here! Right next to the command center!" "What? They're here?!"
"A m-member of the military police saw them coming… They will be—"
—Here soon. His next words were muffled by the sound of cannon fire. It was the roar of a shell whizzing through the air nearby.
The booming sound wasn't something that could be mistaken. Was it tank fire? Or a field gun? It didn't matter.
Fully comprehending the situation, Colonel Calandro almost screeched the following words.
"They're here for a decapitation strike!"
An attack against their command center—it was a complex technique frequently employed by General Zettour in the east. Through thorough maneuver warfare, they would take out the enemy's top in command and cause confusion throughout the battlefield. As a result, their enemy would lose before they could ever regain their bearings on the situation. It was too late for them by the time they were cursing the tactic.
Colonel Calandro promptly shouted his new suggestion.
"Commander! You need to escape and move the command section immediately!"
"You are the one who needs to escape, Colonel. I need to stay back and command my…"
"There is nothing left to command! We need to leave before they dominate us!"
If they didn't protect their head, their body would fall apart.
Colonel Calandro continued to shout at the commander about what the war needed from them.
"We need to cede land to buy us time! We'll lose our forces to the north along with the entire territory if we don't act fast to organize our defensive line!"
The colonel's desperate appeal, along with the second round of artillery fire, was enough to get the commander to begin changing his mind.
"We will move our headquarters. However…"
The enemy was already at their front door. The commander was having difficulty letting his post go, but such wasn't worth a moment's consideration for Colonel Calandro.
"I'll stay here and hold the fort as long as I can." "Wait, you will?"
"I know I'm not a member of border patrol, but I retain my authority from the General Staff. I believe it should be enough for me to act as the field commander for this battle…"
There was at least the precedent for him to take control. It wasn't going to be a pleasant job, but they needed people who could get things done, and he couldn't allow himself to leave his post as someone who could.
The general looked into the duty-driven colonel's eyes and shook his head.
"I'm sorry…Colonel… I was—"
—Wrong about you.
The colonel cut the general off before he could finish.
"The enemy has a limited ability to advance. Make sure our forces can regroup far away from here."
He would worry about himself.
Colonel Calandro prepared for the commander's escape and to move their headquarters while gathering as many military personnel as he could to fight back.
Although, that wasn't very many people. "The best we could do was two battalions."
It was everyone at the base, including his own guard envoy. At a time of war, an entire division should have been defending their base at their border.
That being said, the silver lining to their dismal numbers was the fact that they had all the weapons they could ask for. They couldn't ask for more guns
and equipment with their reserve armory at their fingertips. Not that this actually mattered—they didn't have anywhere near enough personnel to operate the weaponry, as their men had yet to be adequately mobilized.
It was a group of mismatched units, armed to the teeth. "So we'll be up against a Kampfgruppe."
Colonel Calandro showed a wry grin as he smoked the cigars that were distributed to the army's commanding officers. It was a little gift forgotten by the general. Surely he wouldn't mind the colonel helping himself to a cigar, considering what he was about to go through.
A smoking break could provide brief therapy for his troubled mind. Or, at the very least, it acted as a small ceremony for men about to face their harsh reality.
"…We're going to have to take a page from the Empire's book on this one."
He was referring to the Empire's method of scraping by with what they had—a tactic born from trial and error on the battlefield. Coming together, seeing what they had available, and dispersing was their way of fighting with limited resources. He realized this was their doctrine to maintain the quick pace with which they fought the war.
It was easy to understand the merit to this once he was forced to copy their tactics. He could hardly believe they had been making this style work up until now.
"It may be suicide to try and use their own techniques against them…"
Their disadvantage was immediately clear to Colonel Calandro; it didn't take an expert to realize this. The enemies were filled to the brim with fighting spirit, and he barely had enough troops to form a proper formation.
They could only do what was possible for them. The colonel thought about what that was before he eventually realized that their only victory would be to prevent the enemy from getting their hands on their ample armaments.
"We're going to conduct a fighting retreat! We won't be able to bring any of the slower cannons with us. Make sure to blow them to pieces. Burn everything we don't need!"
He would make another realization while he was ordering his men to prepare the explosives. Just as Colonel Calandro knew they couldn't afford to let everything they had fall into the enemy's clutches, he also remembered
the importance of logistical flow. Though not without a moment's…the colonel would give a deep breath before giving his orders.
"We're going to blow up the bridge."
Such was the sole option that was left for the Ildoan forces on the border. It was a barbaric one that the historians of the time despised, but also the only option made available to them via basic military rationale—a scorched earth strategy.
The borderline over-the-top display of retrograde operations would come to be known as "Calandro's firework show." It did, however, successfully stop the Imperial Army in its tracks at a decisive moment.
It was a terribly unpopular decision, even at the time. It was even met with resistance from the field engineer who received the orders to blow everything up.
"Almost e-everything here is a h-historic artifact…?!"
The answer Colonel Calandro gave the man would come to be known by all Ildoans as a textbook military dilemma.
The colonel, sporting the same grim expression he'd had this entire time, muttered his famous words:
"I don't want the Kingdom of Ildoa to become a historical artifact."
Though not without considerable reluctance, the decision would come to be recognized—from time to time—by most historians as an appropriate decision given the circumstances. Third parties would even occasionally refer to it as a good decision.
Colonel Calandro, who received both criticism and praise for his choice, would view what he did with a calmer mindset.
For him, it was a terrible memory of a fight he could never be proud of.
-x-X-x-
NOVEMBER 16, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE NORTHERN ILDOAN TERRITORY
With the Eighth Panzer Regiment, the elite vanguard headed by the Salamander Kampfgruppe, pushing as far south as it's going to get, it's time to shift to the next phase of the plan and reunite with the reinforcements that
follow up the advance and claim any territory they can, allowing Tanya and her company to be relieved from supporting Colonel Lergen in the name of convenience.
Tanya moves quickly en route to her target. It is a point she marked to procure food and other provisions. She adds ham and cheese, coffee, white bread, and other luxury food and goods—all purchased with legal tender, of course—to her spoils of war.
The two companies for the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion return triumphantly with an assortment of goods as quickly as they can. It goes without saying that they are met with the grandest of welcomes from the military base upon their return. They bring with them their accomplishments, their spoils, and delicious food.
People can get lost at times. They lose their way, lose who they are, and can become greedy.
Having said that, there are also times when it is clear what must be done. This is one of those times for Tanya and her troops: They need to celebrate their victory. For worrying too much about war can cause great emotional anguish. It is a terrible thing to push oneself past one's mental limits.
What Tanya's soldiers need is the room to enjoy the bountiful culture boasted by Ildoa. It's the very reason that she puts so much emphasis on social and cultural values. She believes that what she and her troops do out on the front lines while at war—how they have to throw away their humanity— could make it hard for them to return to society after the war. There is a need to minimize the difference in mental stress when out on the front lines compared to life at the rear.
In terms of environment, Tanya loves Ildoa from the bottom of her heart. She loves it for the sunshine and its abundant agriculture. It is the complete opposite of the east: a pleasant place to be.
That goes for the people as well. Not yet tainted by endless total war, they are different than the Federalists. She truly loves the tranquility down here in the south.
What she enjoys most, however, is a nice cup of coffee after a job well done!
This is a wonderful blend. It tastes incredible. Even the short break she took before this celebration is enough to have her very excited.
"Everything is so wonderful here. Just look at the light; I could sit here
and sunbathe all day."
The coffee she abducted from the Ildoan Army is even better than the delicacies she found among the personal provisions distributed to the François Republic soldiers.
Oh, how wonderful neutrality must taste.
"It's almost too stimulating for me since I'm used to that drink they call coffee back in the Empire."
She busts out her personal chocolate stash to enjoy the excellent coffee. They say time flies when you're having fun… With tonight's big celebration starting soon, she has to rush to finish her lunch.
As soon as lunchtime is over, it's already almost nighttime. What turned out to be a fantastic lunch will be followed by a sumptuous feast for dinner. On the table before Tanya and her troops lies a smorgasbord, the likes of which Imperial soldiers could only dream of with how difficult it is to get decent food these days.
The spontaneous meal is a celebration to commemorate Tanya's troops' great work in their most recent operation.
"You've all done incredible work, comrades! Now, eat to your heart's content!"
She gives the word to start their meals…and yet, there isn't much of a reaction on the part of her soldiers.
The usually rambunctious soldiers all show her an expression that suggests something's missing.
Meat, cheese, ham, bread—this should be everything they need to enjoy themselves…
Her question is soon cleared by her adjutant, who raises her hand to express what it is they desire.
"Are we allowed to drink tonight?"
"Though it is only a formality, we could be called out to battle at any moment! I can't let you indulge yourselves too much."
Tanya knows her soldiers aren't so stupid as to get too drunk to operate, but she can't allow herself to forget a part of her duty as their manager is to take care of them.
Who in their right mind would ever approve of fighting a war with troops dulled by alcohol? It's an unnecessary risk she has no intention of making.
"First of all, is there even anyone here who needs to wash away their
feelings with alcohol?"
The last thing Tanya wants to find out is what this bunch of warmongers is capable of under the influence.
She shoots her soldiers a glance, only to find wishful eyes staring back at her. Some of them are even so bold as to whisper complaints among themselves:
"The lieutenant colonel just doesn't understand." "We've already finished our part?!" "You gotta drink after a job well done." "Nah, we shouldn't expect someone who has never drank before to understand us." "We should at least hold a toast, even if just to round out a long day's work."
Tanya is shocked to realize just how much her soldiers want to drink. Allowing them to fly intoxicated could very well create a problem for her as their superior. She definitely doesn't want her career to suffer due to her subordinates' misbehavior.
She can already imagine her next job interview: You have an extraordinary career behind you, but why on earth would you allow your subordinates to drink on the job?
"Well, this comes a surprise to me. To think there are soldiers in the Imperial Army who can ignore rules and regulations when it's convenient for them."
Tanya shoots her soldiers another glance, and they all fall silent. She decides disciplinary action is necessary and calls out in a sharp tone:
"On the ground! I want twenty push-ups! Everyone, now! Follow my rhythm!"
Oh, how I absolutely detest joint responsibility.
The military's preference to employ such a concept always serves as a reminder that the military is an organization of necessary evils.
To top it all off, I can't give them orders to do push-ups while I sit back and watch. I almost want to cry. Doing twenty push-ups isn't all that difficult. I just despise the thought of having to bear the brunt of my subordinates' mistakes.
Let me say it again: I detest the idea of joint responsibility. A commanding officer must take responsibility for errors made by his or her subordinates. Tanya understands this…but she doesn't want her soldiers' drunkenness to fall on her shoulders. This is why, after her soldiers finish their punishment with a quick set of push-ups without breaking a sweat,
Tanya sighs before them all and says: "No drinking. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Their prompt, energetic response is satisfactory. If they're willing to recognize the error of their ways while on the job, then this should be enough. What they do in their private lives is of no concern to Tanya.
Though, as their superior, she needs to bear in mind the work environment she creates for her soldiers. Being the outstanding middle manager she is, Tanya is courteous enough to soften the tone of punishment for her capable group of young soldiers with words of kindness.
"Is there anything else any of you wish for…?"
This is an earnest question for a superior to ask in a situation like this. Though, it usually isn't meant to be anything more than lip service in light of the fact that they can't drink. Nothing better than a cost-effective way to set a kinder tone… Tanya commends her own incredible social tact on the inside. I've done it again!
"What about chocolate and coffee?" "Come again?"
Tanya realizes the grave error in judgment she's made when she hears her adjutants answer her question with an happy-go-lucky look about her. She is stricken with an overbearing sense of disbelief about the words she hears. This is a massive failure on my part—Tanya wishes that she could rewind the world just a few seconds back and cut her damn tongue off.
"You know, to celebrate the occasion… It would be nice if we could have some of yours…"
Her adjutant very politely asks this with a marked look of sorrow in her eyes. The new desire her adjutant revealed acts as the kindling for a searing flame of passion. Much to her chagrin, Tanya can see the fire growing around her.
It appears the alcoholics among her troops aren't the only ones starved for luxuries. She can pick out each sweet-toothed soldier among her ranks just by looking at them.
Look at the fire in their eyes! They burn with hope as they wait for me to agree with her suggestion!
The fact that my adjutant is well aware that I am very particular when it comes to my coffee and snacks would turn out to be a point of pain for me.
For me to ask such a heedless question to begin with has me questioning whether a rational, economic person such as myself has fallen to Being X's level of stupidity.
The war is to blame for all this.
Now, setting all that aside, I can confirm my mental state later. For now… I must deal with this.
What should I do? There's nothing to be gained from putting too much thought into this. I must make my decision now.
"…Damn it, all right. We can procure some from my personal stash!"
A reluctant Tanya writes this off as a necessary expense for her to maintain her airs of being a good boss.
For now, she won't forget the triumphant "Woo-hoo!" given by the sweet- toothed members of her battalion. Tanya makes a mental note of everyone who cheered. She is going to make sure they earn their chocolate during the next operation. They will definitely pay her back for this.
Swearing to get her chocolate's worth of work from the men and women, Tanya shoots her adjutant a look.
"You'll find what we need in my personal belongings. Bring back an appropriate amount. Don't be greedy, now, you hear?"
"Yes, commander! I'll be right back!"
There is no hesitation in my adjutant as she sprints out of the room. It appears she knows exactly where I keep my chocolate. I'm forced to prepare myself to lose most of what I've procured for myself this time. There isn't much left back in the Empire, so hopefully, I'll be able to procure more while we're here in Ildoa.
For the time being, I'll have to enjoy the feast we've prepared for tonight.
With my knife and fork—my two favorite armaments—I dig into the appetizer, fish, and then the main dish. My heart is filled with joy as I savor the exquisite Ildoan cuisine. Now this is what culture is supposed to taste like!
I become overcome with a sense of dizziness when I see my adjutant make her way back with copious amounts of my chocolate and coffee, but I maintain my composure on the outside with a smile. It is thanks to my calm that my ears perk up at the sound of busy footsteps I assume are hurrying to serve me my next dish.
"Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff, where's Lieutenant Colonel
Degurechaff?"
"I'm right here."
With a fork in hand, Tanya glances over at the bold server who called her by name. How strange, the waiter doesn't appear to have anything in his hands.
No, I've seen this person before. They're a facilities staff officer. I want to ask why he would call for me without carrying any food. He seems to be a second lieutenant. Is he an officer?
Judging by his age, he is a second lieutenant, fresh out of war college. He must be here to supplement our lack of personnel. I suppose his youth and lack of experience aren't a problem if he is kept in the rear… Nevertheless, the drop in average age for the Imperial Army is glaring. Between this and an aging population, I wonder which is worse.
With this on her mind, Tanya opts to answer the young officer as if she is speaking with a child.
"I didn't hear an alarm. What do you need?"
Though these words are meant to criticize the young man, Tanya makes sure not to be too strict. With a blend of displeasure and confusion in her tone, she makes sure to pay respect to the young officer's duty.
"I'd like it if we could enjoy a meal in peace after completing a mission."
The second lieutenant shows a sorrowful look before blurting out his response, as if he suddenly remembered what he's here for.
"It's a call from the Empire! I'm sorry, but you need to take it!" "What? Well, I suppose I probably should."
Tanya sighs, puts down her knife and fork, and gets out of her seat. Having to leave the dinner is very regrettable, but she can't ignore a call from the capital.
"By the way, Second Lieutenant. I'd appreciate it if you made it a point to tell me who is calling next time."
"My apologies. It's an urgent call from General Zettour."
Hey! Tanya's attitude immediately stiffens when she hears the word general. This level of awareness is abysmal, even for a new officer. It's worse than poor training.
Tanya is forced to point out the problem to the young officer with a deep sigh.
"Remember this: Never forget to add the word urgent to your initial report
when pertinent. An improper report can have grave consequences."
He has the worst person in all of the army to keep waiting on hold! Tanya darts to the room where the phone has been left on hold and, after scrambling to pick it up, apologizes for her tardiness.
"This is Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff! I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, General!"
Time is a precious resource. That goes double for a superior's time, but there's no use in making excuses when you've screwed up. Even if it was the messenger's mistake, one must start by giving an earnest apology, and it needs to be done as soon as possible—every second counts when you are running late.
"There's no need to worry, Lieutenant Colonel. There is just a little something I need for you to do."
Tanya can hear the grin on her superior's face through the phone. A grin wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing if it weren't Deputy Director Zettour, known for his cunning tricks, on the phone.
"What is it that you need me to do?"
"Yes, well, I have good news and bad news."
Whenever given this choice, Tanya always opts to start with the worse news.
"May I hear the bad news first?"
"The Ildoan Navy has battleships positioned on the coast that may pose a significant threat to our plans. There is a good chance they may be capable of completely denying us use of their coastline roads."
Battleships can bring incredible firepower to bear. The measly twenty- millimeter shells fired by artillery on the ground pale in comparison to the forty-centimeter shells the floating fortresses can hurl one after the other.
"They are going to bombard their own roads with battleships? How bothersome."
"Quite so. Our forces on the road are at a loss at the moment. The most I can come up with to fight back is to try and keep their movement limited via sea mines."
"You said you had good news as well?"
"That is correct. Though enemy battleships pose a clear threat…their emergence also provides us with a new chance."
"A chance?"
Tanya is suspicious of the general's suggestive terminology. The fact that General Zettour sounds markedly happy is also a bit disturbing. She can't tell if what is coming next will be a good or bad thing…but one thing's for sure: The danger sense she cultivated in the east tells her that something is off.
"The enemy fleet appears to be vulnerable to an attack that could wipe them out in one hit."
"…My apologies, but that sounds a bit too good to be true to me, General. If it were one or two ships, I could understand taking them out in a single attack, but an entire fleet?"
Is he talking about taking out a fully loaded carrier? That doesn't seem feasible given how tied up the Imperial Army is at the moment. To make matters worse, the war started on the 11th. Today is the 16th. Would the enemy deliberately roll out such a vulnerable target five days into the war?
Tanya's firm grasp of military logic has her confused by the premise at hand.
"I bet you don't believe me, and I wouldn't blame you. But it is the truth. You see," General Zettour happily continues, "the main fleet for the Ildoan naval forces is currently…undergoing modernization refitting in a port to the north."
"…What?"
Are they rebuilding their ships—precious national assets—on the border? "So this means that they aren't able to deploy any of their ships at the
moment?"
"That's exactly right. Their behemoths are currently immobile, and a battleship trapped in a harbor is the perfect target."
"I can hardly believe it. There is a war going on. Are the Ildoans sane?" Their most expensive targets are just sitting on their border, waiting for an
Imperial attack. Who in their right mind would ever allow such a thing to happen?
"The Ildoans follow a different school of thought. They likely intended to have their ships there as a message that they had no intent to start a war. It's a rational choice to make from their standpoint."
Tanya agrees with this point. They would never start a war while all their ships were in a single dock. Such would be utterly inconceivable—for an Imperial soldier. It appears the Ildoans thought the exact opposite.
Look at us. We're neutral. We have no intention of attacking the Empire.
Docking their battleships on their border was meant to be a signal to the Empire. Unfortunately for them, the Empire didn't pick up on their signal in time.
"So…their entire fleet is still docked at the border?"
"They weren't ready to fight a war, nor did they have any contingencies put in place. They are currently rushing to get their ships out of the harbor. This is just another of the unforeseen benefits of our ambush."
Picking up on the incredible opportunity, Tanya makes her move. "This means our army can seize their ships!"
The Empire's naval situation is in dire straits. If there is any chance to improve it, they should do whatever it takes. Even if this wasn't the case and their navy was in good shape, a new battleship or two always carries with it a significant impact. Although Tanya doesn't necessarily consider battleships the king of the seas…the public absolutely adores them. Almost too much. Seizing any number of battleships would be the best form of propaganda one could wish for.
As such, a rosy dream blossoms in Tanya's mind.
So that is what he means by taking them out all at once! How simple!
"That won't likely be possible."
General Zettour quietly yet firmly plucks the petals of the roses in Tanya's dream.
"I don't think we should let this chance to seize new ships slip through our fingers…"
"It's not good to wish for what you don't have. The assault on Ildoa's northern territory is still midway. We are currently walking on an extremely thin tightrope."
Their main forces are currently in the phase where they move south and open up a path. This is the natural response for a superior to make when considering how unpredictable the battlefield is.
If only… Tanya couldn't stop a feeling of lament from welling up inside. "If only we had more forces…"
"We lack the manpower and time. Our only hope is to sink what is there.
We can't let our desire get in the way of a successful attack."
Everyone wants as much precious resources as they can acquire. This is especially true in times of war. The only difference between times of war and peace in this regard is that the resources you cannot have become a nuisance
—and if we can't have them, then we'll destroy them.
Coming to this inevitable logical conclusion, Tanya gives up on the thought of acquiring more ships.
"So I'm assuming our air fleet will be attacking the enemy naval fleet?" "Our air fleet is currently struggling to maintain aerial superiority in the
north. There's no guarantee we could sink all the ships, even if we used them to attack the port."
Tanya doesn't quite follow. Perhaps we will do something similar to the attack on Port Arthur in China, meaning sieging the port with either heavy artillery that we can bring up or railway guns. Considering the durability of the battleships, I assume we'll be using the railway guns.
"General, I think I see what you're getting at."
The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion would act as artillery observers during the siege on the port. I can't help but note the irony if there is a 203 Hill in Ildoa like there is in China. This will be exactly like Port Arthur if we use railway guns to blow apart their battleships from afar.
"Leave the attack to my battalion. We're used to spotting for artillery crews."
Tanya says this confidently, but it isn't easy to guide artillery fire in enemy territory. It is a significant hurdle to overcome. That said, it should be different from the support they needed to give to single artillerists in Norden or the Rhine. This time, several different approaches can be taken.
As Tanya thinks about observation tactics and the equipment they will need, she is hit with some unexpected words.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I won't be having you guide the attack." "What?"
"The Doctor will explain the details to you. You and your battalion will be attacking the enemy ships."
"D-did you say Doctor?"
An alarm begins ringing loudly in Tanya's mind.
Shit. This is worse news than the original bad news. Fucking shit.
"I've made the arrangements to use his acceleration machinery. I want you to conduct more reconnaissance."
No! Not those damned missiles we used to visit the François Republic on the Rhine front!
"G-General. My units have just finished a long battle; I'm not so certain
that we can operate at full capacity yet…"
I need to talk my way out of this. Despite my desperate attempts to list any excuse, reason, or factor I can think of, Tanya's superior has a ruthless retort ready.
"That's odd. Just a moment ago you were volunteering to spot artillery fire on the naval base."
She can't lie. With any false response likely to be seen right through, Tanya's only option is to somehow use the truth to make her superior misunderstand the situation… Unfortunately, General Zettour may very well be the man with the most expertise in employing this tactic in the entire world.
Therefore, Tanya realizes her only option is to raise her white flag now. "O-on your orders, sir."
What is supposed to be a joyous feast and celebration for the members of the 203rd is immediately stopped by the awful sound of an alarm. It isn't an actual alarm but an internal one, triggered by the sound of hurried footsteps their heightened senses pick up on while they wait for their commander to return. The two elite companies of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion all hear the internal alarm in unison and begin to stuff their faces with the food accordingly.
This attribute of theirs makes for strong soldiers who will survive the war.
They need to eat when the food is there.
These veterans, who are in a league of their own, know instinctually to reach for whatever food they can grab and shove it down their throats ASAP.
"Mmnngh, hey! That's mine!" "First Lieutenant! Look at all that cheese you ate already! Save some for the rest of us!" "I wanted to make it into a sandwich and save it for later!" "Who took a bite out of my chocolate?!" "This white bread tastes so damn good…"
There is a strange harmony to the busy hands that reach for food, slap each other away, and grab things that can be saved for later as the grand feast quickly disappears into the soldiers' stomachs and satchels.
Being an Aerial Mage is a calorie-intensive position, and eating is an essential part of it—but their focus is in shambles. They must maintain a
technical capacity to pick up on subtle changes to their surroundings. Such as, say, their commander stomping back down the hall in frustration.
That being said, a soldier can only remain so vigilant. The moment Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff catches a glimpse of what's going on in the banquet room, she—in a manner that explains how a White Silver Badge holder can earn the moniker Rusted Silver—glares balefully as she calls out to her battalion.
"Attention, all units! Assemble at once!"
Despite the veteran mage and war hero she is, Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov almost chokes on the oversized bite of ham sandwich she forced down her throat.
"Mrgh?! Mmm, cough, huh? What?!"
Tanya's tone, her presence, and her words—a veteran in the middle of a raging battle doesn't need to be able to see the future to know what is coming with a probability of nearly 100 percent. Whatever it is this time, it is most certainly bad.
They all can tell they're about to be embroiled in something troublesome. For a veteran with First Lieutenant Serebryakov's ample experience, she assumes the worst and immediately kicks into high gear. The only problem is
—it's her hands and mouth that are moving.
"All units of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion! Prepare to deploy!" "But we just finished our last mission?!"
My subordinate protests my orders while she engulfs what is likely the most delicious white bread she's ever had. It's not as if our usual rye bread doesn't taste good, but fine-grain white bread is in a league of its own.
"You heard me!"
"W-wait, wait! Let me finish this first!"
One of my soldiers shouts this out as they wash down more white bread with some of my coffee.
It's hard even to imagine drinking coffee of this caliber in such a crude manner. Thinking about how much the coffee cost is almost enough to make me faint. That said, it seems the majority of my subordinates are more interested in the bread than the coffee.
Some of the bread has delicious meat sandwiched between it. Though there isn't enough time to enjoy the taste, it's still leagues better than the provisions they're used to.
-x-X-x-
[Image]
-x-X-x-
It must taste wonderful. To eat it in such a way is a true disservice to its quality, but it is better than letting it go to waste. My subordinates keep eating and eating, reaching for more food as I wait.
"Cease eating the Ildoan cuisine at once! I need you to assemble this instant! You know what will happen if you don't!"
It's clear to them that I am nearing my limits as I finish my demand with an overt tone of frustration. They have all been in the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion for a long time now, so they know where the line they mustn't cross lies. Nevertheless, First Lieutenant Serebryakov tries to resist once more.
"P-please let us have the calories we need for our next operation…!"
I shoot her the coldest of glares while simultaneously saying, in an almost kind tone…
"First Lieutenant Serebryakov. Are you asserting your need to eat takes priority over your commander's orders?"
This is the limit. They can hear my rage simmering over the boiling point.
Realizing she has screwed up, First Lieutenant Serebryakov scrambles to put out the flames she has inadvertently fanned.
"Oh, no! No, no, no, no! I'm ready to deploy this very instant!"
She shoots up out of her chair and begins grabbing things off the table, beckoning another glare of disbelief from Tanya.
"Oi, Visha."
"Yes!"
"Put the biscuits down."
At the peak of desperation, First Lieutenant Serebryakov retorts: "These are emergency rations!"
Her expression is full of confidence. This assertion might have worked on a different superior if it weren't for the length of their relationship.
"You have a bunch of my chocolate on you as well, don't you?" "The chocolate and these biscuits are entirely separate issues!"
"Fine! Fine! Just make sure you enjoy the taste of my coffee while you drink it."
"Y-y-yes, Commander!"
First Lieutenant Serebryakov shuffles over to where the rest of the mages are eating and promptly picks up enough coffee for her and Tanya to have later. It's obvious what this is for. They are going to enjoy it while they have their next meeting.
Thus, in line with Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff's desire to have a meeting in comfort, the meeting room they use is well stocked with chocolate and coffee. The fragrant scent of coffee beans fills the meeting room where they receive an impassioned explanation from Dr. Schugel about his new and improved V-1s.
The members of the mage battalion ignore the fragrance as their commanding officer begins her own explanation of the operation they're about to commit. A simple explanation would more than suffice for the battle-hardened mage troops, who have already successfully executed operations using the V-1s and V-2s.
"Our target is a group of enemy battleships. That will be all."
With clear comprehension, the mage troops all approach to board the mad scientist's contraptions. We're boarding the latest rendition of the Doctor's V-1s from a launch facility that was prepared in a hurry. Although, the only one professing the improvements to a core feature of the missiles is Dr. Schugel himself. From Tanya's point of view, a V-1 that can now turn slightly more on its axis is still the same old V-1 they're used to.
The twelve pilots propel themselves through the blue Ildoan skies riding a jet stream of hydrazine fuel. Inside the steel death trap, Tanya and her veterans make small adjustments to their trajectories as they fly through the air.
The speed of the V-1s is as intense as ever as they thrash through the sky on course for their target. At this rate, their enemies will have zero time to react before they complete their mission. We must bear in mind, however, that the Ildoan Army is not the François Army. In other words, the former isn't in a position where they will be idly waiting for the attack to come to them.
Ildoa is a late contender to join this war. For better or worse, they have extensive knowledge of the Imperial Army's capacity to perform decapitation strikes after watching from the sidelines for all this time. This may be an advantage to neutrality. They still have the resources and budget to remain aware of their enemy's strengths. The Ildoan military stationed in the Empire and the Commonwealth are even in the position to explore tactics from both perspectives when it comes to fighting the Empire.
Though both perspectives are incomplete, it is more than adequate to make a blueprint they can base their scenarios on. It is yet to be determined
whether or not their plans will be effective in actual combat, though. Nevertheless, the fact of the matter is that they will have a contingency plan in place.
Accordingly, it is clear what the soldiers at the naval base must do. Their garrison need not hesitate. As soon as news of the attack makes its way from the border, the naval garrison will quickly take up positions to defend the base.
They have the equipment and the people, and are up against an enemy they prepared for. The Ildoan Navy moves as quickly as possible according to the contingency plans they had set up for an attack like this. This evidently involves unleashing every bit of anti–air fire they can muster: a tactic as effective as it is simple.
A dense curtain of enemy fire heading our way presents itself to Tanya, leaving her in shock.
"We're not even close yet?"
What shocks her the most is the distance from which they are firing. It isn't a distance from which antiair missiles could be fired effectively. Normally, Tanya would laugh this off as hysteria. However, there is nothing about the situation unfolding before her to laugh at.
"I see… They're trying to block our vision."
The density of their antiair curtain fire itself is just sparse enough for Tanya and her troops to penetrate it. This much, however, is exactly what the enemy is hoping for, as the black smoke unleashed by their antiair missiles is making it exponentially more difficult to see past them.
As frustrating as this may be, the black smoke makes it apparent that the soldiers defending the harbor will hit us with everything they have.
The destroyers appear to be letting up a smokescreen as well. I'm not sure how much they intend on pushing the boilers on their ships, but their tactic is terribly effective.
At this rate, we won't be able to see anything. "Those damned Ildoans! They're clever bastards!"
It is difficult to make slight adjustments to the V-1's final trajectory. Any small shift has a huge impact on the spot where a missile like this will land. The tactic employed by the Ildoan Navy is the perfect way to defend against them. This is exactly what the Empire would do in the same circumstances.
"Perhaps we underestimated our opponent due to their many years of
peace…"
A part of her didn't expect much of a challenge for this operation due to their lack of experience. Maybe how they annihilated their army in the initial charge played a role in her misjudgment.
Tanya needs to accept that she has made a mistake. Thinking back on it, the nation of Ildoa is, after all, a maritime nation. Just as the Commonwealth's navy is a great threat despite their dismal army, naval officers who live off their seamanship are as cunning as they come.
I always find myself envious of that which I cannot have. "Shit, this is why I despise the navy."
The Empire's navy is so unreliable compared to all of their enemies. This is a nasty imbalance to work with. It is entirely unfair.
I wish my nation's navy would reflect on their own practices more. Everyone but our submarines are pretty much a waste of fuel. I almost want to rip the seals off their boats and send them to the east as foot soldiers. Maybe that would whip them into shape a bit!
Tanya swallows her agitation and begins thinking about the matter at hand.
"I should worry about myself rather than others…"
This smokescreen is unexpected. There are only twelve V-1s on our side. Our numbers are far too low to spread out and hope we can reach our targets through their curtain fire. If my units can't land their shots, there isn't much to be gained from this operation.
Wait. Why do we need to land them all? It's an absurd expectation to have to begin with. We're not so foolish as to believe in a reality where such a convenient attack could ever prove successful.
We're a company of veterans; there's no way we could ever expect to all land our shots perfectly… I doubt we'll be able to sink all five of their ships. Even if our missiles strike true, there's a chance they are too sturdy to be sunk.
On that note, a new idea crosses Tanya's mind: The 203rd may as well aim for one or two for now.
The smokescreen won't allow them to hope for much more. With the wall of flak and the smokescreen, it's evident we should've considered a few more options before we deployed.
That said, though, our current plan is already set in motion.
"Would last-minute changes to the plan be a bad thing?"
There are moments in life where one must opt for the second-best plan if it is more reliable, given any confusion that may prevent optimal execution of the original plan.
At the same time, orders aren't something that should be changed on a whim. If we mess up by propelling ourselves into a curtain of utter confusion, the damages we'll suffer will be far too great.
What will happen if we mess up? Will there even be a next time? I mean, it's not as if I actually want to use these V-1s again, but this is something that needs to be considered from an occupational standpoint.
What is clear to me now is how limited this opportunity is. If the enemy ships make it out to sea, the V-1s will be of no effect. Maybe we could try again with the V-2s, but I doubt anything will work if they know we are coming for them.
"The answer to all of this is simple, I guess."
It's enough to have Tanya give a wry grin. We need to remove our enemies while we have the chance. That is all that matters. So they can't let this opportunity pass us by.
Instead of trying to change our course, we will make sure to sink at least one or two battleships.
"There's just one problem."
And it is a big problem. These V-1s are creations of that mad scientist. Is it really okay for Tanya and her soldiers to risk their lives on these death traps?
For better or worse, however, the answer to her concerns has already been forced upon her.
"There's no turning back now that we've come this far."
Tanya never wanted to use these contraptions, of course. But her superior made the decision—to put her life on the line—for her. With orders this clear, there's no choice but to trust that damned mad scientist.
It was never Tanya's decision to make from the beginning. Orders are orders.
"What a crock of shit."
It's a terrible thing to have to work for someone else. Now that she has decided to change jobs, she definitely can't do anything that would put her in front of a firing squad.
"I sure as hell never thought they would put me back on one of these, though…"
She shakes her head to rid herself of any distracting thoughts. Right now, she needs to focus on ramming this flying heap of metal into one of the enemy's floating heaps of metal. Setting aside how dangerous the V-1s are, one thing's for sure: They definitely pack a punch.
With our vision hampered, the 203rd will need to focus on driving them manually.
"01 to all units. We're going to move according to plan."
This is why Tanya speaks to her subordinates as they approach their target in their sights.
"Ideally, we hit them with a direct attack, but just try to get as close as you can. If possible, aim for their propellers!"
A battleship is still very dangerous even if it can't move. That said, it certainly isn't as dangerous as a battleship that can move. The Empire needs the Ildoan Navy to lose their assets today.
"Comrades, I place great faith in you all. Get results like you always do!
That is all!"
A superior's speech should always be quick and to the point. After sending a brief message out to her soldiers, Tanya turns her radio to her adjutant's channel.
"Adjutant! We're following the initial formation. You and I will take out the battleship farthest to the rear!"
"Roger!"
I should check the hydrazine boosters. They appear to be working perfectly. Maintaining our astonishing velocity, we pierce through the air toward our target. We come pouring down like flying balls of destruction that will soon pay a little visit to the battleships parked in the harbor below.
Our enemy, on the other hand, is doing everything they can to bring a quick end to our visit. The enemy forces on the ground are launching literally everything they have at our quickly approaching V-1s. They begin adding aimed shots into the initial curtain of flak that bars the 203rd's way.
"The Ildoan Navy is good… Though it's clear that they lack experience, they are able to move as a team."
Tanya nods at her adjutant's comment. "It makes me jealous."
Their navy is thoroughly trained and educated. The forces below them are likely the most well-equipped among any of the warring powers at the moment. If the troops below are as well trained as they are armed, they are something to be desired by every branch of the Imperial military.
The Empire doesn't want to be up against a power that doesn't operate the same way it does—like a sweatshop. It's dreadful how properly functioning companies can extend their efficiency to personnel at even the lowest levels. Tanya must recognize her enemy's advantage. That being said, she will also make sure that their experience will pull out above all else for this battle. This advantage of theirs is something they will have to use to its fullest extent.
"There is no need for us to give these soldiers the experience they lack." "I agree."
Tanya begins to make the final adjustments to her flight path as she listens to her adjutant's reply. The smoke that blocks their vision is very annoying, but it's a tactic that they're used to.
"Their battleships are ours."
Our target: the entire Ildoan naval fleet.
After we make our final adjustments, my soldiers and I all eject from our V-1 cockpits. As the missiles plunge toward the deep blue Ildoan sea, Tanya and her mages successfully distance themselves from the blast by taking flight. They turn their attention to the skies above the naval port, which are still as filled with projectiles as they were only moments before. The Ildoan Navy continues to launch everything they've got at the 203rd in the form of AA fire.
To make things worse, it seems a few of their enemies have made visual confirmation of them.
"How annoying!"
They are going so far as to focus the line of their anti–air fire on individual mages. It is, of course, not enough to put any of my mages in danger thanks to our protective films and defensive shells. Nevertheless, it is never a pleasant experience to be under this much withering fire. Save a handful of soldiers with a particular fetish for being caught in enemy scopes, this is about as stressful as a war can get.
"I won't deny another person's desires, but I certainly don't share those peculiar interests… Oh?"
From the corner of her eye, Tanya sees the sparkle of a mad weapon, the
mad product of a mad scientist's mad passion.
Their vehicular missiles, with their highly penetrative design, ample thrust, and decent explosive power, show as little restraint as their creator as they head directly for their targets.
This is, after all, what he made them for, and they do what they are made for well.
The Imperial-made V-1s pierce through Ildoa's blue sky, blue sea, and gray battleships that race to depart from the harbor in twelve straight lines.
The resulting sight is utter calamity. No amount of smoke could hide what happens. Six of the V-1s land direct hits. Four more are near hits.
The aftermath of the attack is outstanding.
As the ships have yet to leave the port, they cannot make any real evasive maneuvers. A vessel stuck in harbor makes for a great target. This is even truer for the elite 203rd—this is the ideal environment to create results.
The single mage company hits its mark on two battleships and even manages to tip over a third. The explosion is incredible. The sound of the blast rumbles through the sky, the shock wave of which is enough to shake the aerial mages' formation. I look out at the bay with satisfaction. It's easy to see the impact of the blast.
Of the Ildoan naval fleet, all that's left are two of their more elite ships— and even those are barely staying afloat…
"I believe it's fair to say we've incapacitated them."
We have taken away their mobility. The boats are either on their way to the bottom of the sea or in the process of tipping over.
No one can tell the future, but one thing is for sure. "They're not going anywhere with their boats in that shape."
In one fell swoop, we have eliminated the naval fleet boasted by the Ildoans. Their boats certainly won't be seeing any battle in this war.
The thick black smoke billowing up from the burning flames below tell Tanya this much.
Three boats have sunk, and two have been destroyed. The masses of steel will rot in the blue Ildoan ocean, now stained black by the diesel fuel. The black smoke that blocked their vision until just moments ago is now a brilliant display of various colors as the smoke catches the light from the magnificent flames of the enemy ships!
Before long, the company has quickly finished regrouping in the skies
above. The fact that there was no trouble ejecting from the V-1s is great news.
This is a flawless victory, made without suffering any losses. "Should we capitalize on our results?"
From my side, I hear my adjutant give her opinion. As of late, she has a tendency to want to pick on our weaker enemies. In moments like these, Tanya worries a little about the woman's future.
"First Lieutenant, it's times like these where I feel the need to remind you…not to forget we are at war."
Knowing when to quit is an essential part of being a professional soldier.
Why doesn't she realize that the weakness the enemy is showing right now makes for the perfect chance to return home on time? Could it be that First Lieutenant Serebryakov finds her work so fulfilling she can continue without limits?
"First Lieutenant, do you find our work fulfilling?" "Huh? Are you talking about fulfilling our duty?"
My subordinate takes a defensive stance. This is the right reaction to have. A superior questioning their subordinate's desires is generally unwelcome. As much as I'd like her to relax the tension in her shoulders, it's not that easy, even for somebody as good at communication as I.
"Hm…" After a moment's thought, I ask her again nonchalantly. "Oh, no. I was just wondering if you are the type who wishes to find fulfillment in their work. That's all."
I am slightly worried whether this will come across the way I wish for it to. I can tell, though, from my subordinate's expression that Tanya's words reach her.
"Well, uh, I guess it is better if there is some…" "Thank you, Visha."
That sounds normal. Maybe her tendency to seek out fulfillment is only slight, at most. She is likely a standard person. Tanya, for one, enjoys a fulfilling job much more than a fruitless one. This much is a part of life.
"All units, withdraw! We've completed our mission to perfection! Let's finish it without suffering any losses!"
It's time for our great escape. There aren't many forces that can escape as quickly as the veterans of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. We hightail it out of there so fast, it's clear to anyone on the ground that we aren't the type to
loiter in enemy skies any longer than we need to.
The aerial company partakes in clever banter as we fly back to our base, though we never let our guard down. With no unnecessary movements made up until the very end, Tanya nods with satisfaction upon returning to the base. "Good work, everyone! You're all dismissed," Tanya says before turning
to her adjutant and realizing she should probably extend her personal appreciation to her as well.
"The same goes for you, Adjutant. You did well today." "Thank you. So… Colonel, where will we be going next?" "Hm? Ah, we're going to change our location."
"To where?"
This much is a given. To the front, obviously.
Tanya is already smiling.
"It's about time we head to the front to act as the rear guard for Weiss and the others."
"Uh… W-we're going to go to the front even though we just blew up all those destroyers?"
We're still not finished? Although Tanya's adjutant just barely manages to swallow her words, it is clear what she is getting at.
They cleaned up the battlefield for Colonel Lergen and destroyed an entire enemy naval fleet. Looking back on how they've been moving these past few days, it's clear that they are being overworked.
Oh, how I miss the Department of Labor Standards. Alas, one shouldn't lament what they can't have. No amount of labor standards would protect an Imperial soldier anyway.
That is why we need to go forward—it is for our own good. The longer we stay back on reserve, the more likely we'll be hit with another dangerous assignment.
Staying in the rear is high risk and high return. Tanya would much rather take her chances with middle risk, middle return at the rear of the front lines. Not to mention that there isn't a soul in the Empire who would dare call heading to the front lines "running away from the battle." Therefore, from a risk-hedge point of view, there is no reason for them not to head to the front.
"I understand your concerns, Adjutant, but the Kampfgruppe needs all the support it can get."
"Considering the circumstances, I can't disagree…"
"As you shouldn't. There is no time for us to waste eating a free meal at the rear."
Tanya's words are met with an unexpected reaction. "Um, could it be that you're still…?"
"What's that, Adjutant?" "Are you still angry?"
Angry? Me? This troubles Tanya, who gives a candid response. "Angry at what?"
"About the ham before we deployed…"
"The ham you stuffed between your cheeks? I'm not so petty as to hold a grudge over some ham that I didn't get to eat because somebody got there first."
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NOVEMBER 19, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, IMPERIAL OCCUPIED TERRITORY
Setting aside the political and military implications behind the Ildoan campaign, the front lines of Ildoa are a delicious place to fight.
I'm not talking about just the ham or cheese.
Tanya's sharp eye catches every imported coffee bean there is to find. There are even some fun machines for us to take home, like this device for grinding coffee. I'm looking forward to being able to enjoy espresso whenever I wish. An espresso machine would be easier to work with, but they don't have those in this world yet.
I think I'll take a stroll through our new territory and buy what I need. Legally, of course.
Tanya is insistent that her subordinates also follow this policy as it is much more rational—and safe—for them to systematically commandeer their goods rather than pillage them. It's also legal for them to do it this way.
"First Lieutenant Serebryakov, prepare some Commonwealth currency for me to use later."
"Are you going to purchase something?"
"That is correct."
Foreign currency is a strong asset in enemy territories. People place far more trust in it compared to military currency. I should mention that we acquired all of the currency we use for shopping from enemy coffers. It is pretty easy to come by when raiding an enemy base (though I doubt my colleagues in other branches of the army would try to do the same). Setting aside the times when we are engaged in fierce combat, it is always a powerful tool for acquiring goods on the front lines.
Sun Tzu put it the best. A wise general sources what they need from their enemy. One cartload of the enemy's provisions is worth twenty of one's own. He was probably a genius manager. He's much better than Marx in terms of his awareness of costs.
"We'll start with recon. Let's go." "I'll go with you."
"All right."
As the two of us walk through occupied territory, part of the scenery sticks out like a sore thumb. We'd notice it even if we weren't on reconnaissance.
"Everything here is so pretty, unlike the Empire." "Excluding the parts we destroyed."
As my adjutant points out, the blemish on the scenery is the remains of broken-down buildings and houses. It's fair to conclude that the Empire is at fault for the lion's share of the wreckage.
The more recent damages tend to be made by bullets, after all.
"Our ground troops really don't hold back now, do they? Perhaps the Ildoans are a bit too sophisticated in this regard."
The majority of the enemy forces retreated without so much as blowing up a bridge behind them. Though, the word is there was an exception who had what it takes to do so. I hear that there is a specific spot that was scorched so badly that it looks like it was a Federation job. Fortunately for us, such decisive action is still limited. Most Ildoans even appear to operate as if things are still business as usual.
They don't care if it is the Empire, the Federation, or the Commonwealth that attacks them. I can't think of a single country that would allow their roads to be taken unscathed. In this regard, Ildoa is still quite peaceful.
"The fact that they're hesitant to destroy their roads shows that they just
aren't cut out for war." "It's not as if…"
My adjutant timidly motions to share her opinion with me. "…We destroy what's in our path because we wanted to." Tanya agrees with her about this.
"That is correct. We are ordered to do so by necessity."
There is one question that remains unanswered. I wonder if the Goddess of Necessity truly is a goddess. It's an important perspective and a deep question of Tanya's.
As far as Tanya can tell, the fact that those like Being X have left this world to its own devices is the source of many of its problems. It's too difficult to understand even with the just-world hypothesis.
Despite how much I must suffer, why do I receive so little in return? There is no salvation for the human race so long as this question goes unanswered.
Tanya casually reaches for something in her pocket. "Visha, take a look at this."
"Oh? What is that?"
"It is a potato. A single potato."
It is a bit too small and misshapen to call it a proper potato. And yet, this here is a potato nonetheless.
It is the basics of the basics for a soldier to grab what they can and shove it in their pockets before deploying on another mission. This is because you never know when will be the next time you'll be able to get the provisions you need.
Seeing the look of suspicion on First Lieutenant Serebryakov's face, Tanya nods.
"I guess it is strange that I am carrying around a potato, isn't it?"
"Well, I was expecting you'd have a chocolate bar. Considering how much you like them."
"That's not incorrect."
Tanya rolls the potato around in her palm and shows a bit of a wry smile. "I figured this is a good chance to compare the size of our potatoes with
Ildoa's. I picked out a random one from our base."
I probably shouldn't be surprised that it took using my authority as a General Staff Aerial Magic Battalion commander to acquire a potato even as paltry as this one. It's not worth mentioning this to my adjutant, but this
lieutenant colonel—a celebrated Named, Aerial Magic officer, and member of the General Staff Office—had to seriously negotiate for this measly potato.
Nonetheless, I opt not to compare the tiny vegetable to its Ildoan counterpart.
"I wanted to compare it to the potatoes here, but I decided to stop myself." "Why did you decide to do that?"
This much is obvious. How can she not see it? Tanya sighs before sharing their unpleasant reality with her adjutant.
"Because I knew it would only make me sad, Adjutant."
The potatoes I found in Ildoa are genuinely magnificent. It's enough to make one question if they are even the same vegetable. Their color, size, and weight are completely different. You can feel how much nutrition is packed in their potatoes just by holding them. The Empire's potatoes are so thin and seedy in comparison.
To think these are considered an Imperial staple. The poison of total war has thoroughly eaten away at the Empire's foundation.
"We were ordered to come here by the Goddess of Necessity."
There is nothing left for the Empire but our own destruction as we tread the bleary path laid out for us. Fate is always so cruel. As such, General Zettour decided to try and throw shit at the fate handed to him and depart from it.
As far as Tanya knows, the man known as Zettour is, as an individual, likely as good and pious a man of faith as anybody else is…but as a part of this organization, he is a wicked realist. He would probably go so far as to not let what most would consider a god stand in his way. Anything that crosses his path and stands in his way is met with destruction. This means that if the Goddess of Necessity decided to forsake the Empire, then the Deputy Director of the Service Corps in the General Staff would respond with a giant middle finger.
He will show no mercy, even for a god.
Ironically enough, if it would result in the Empire being able to avoid the path to our own destruction, General von Zettour would bow down before any god, sardine, or even Flying Spaghetti Monster.
That's right, we are approaching the end. This is the path General von Zettour is taking, a path to end the war. Without beating around the bush, our current operation is a hard-landing attempt for the best loss we can eke out.
In other words, it's the end for the Empire. Everything we do now is in search of a means to our end.
The measures we've taken in Ildoa provide us with nothing more than a bit of time. General von Zettour is likely going to try and use this to bring an end to hostilities in the east. He'll either get rid of the Empire's remaining resources or discard them as a way to adjust our debts. That is, assuming there's any logic to what he is doing…
Either way, Tanya can't speak as to whether or not her theory is correct. A part of Tanya is a bit conflicted about all of this. Her instincts tell her that General Zettour has more intentions behind the Ildoan campaign than he is letting on as a military operation.
If it is a political campaign, it's hard to tell exactly what his goals are. I'm sure there is something political going on here—something about all of this reeks of concealment. I'm not sure based on physical evidence, but Tanya's intuition is picking up on something.
There has to be something for the Empire to gain from attacking Ildoa. Until I can figure out what that is, I'm nothing more than a pawn for the general to play around with. I must continue playing the role of a capable pawn, but a pawn also needs to think for itself. If I'm unable to decide my own price, there is a good chance I may get pawned off against my will. I need to make arrangements to remain vigilant to any adjustments such as these. My network and personal connections will remain important from here on out.
I glance over at my adjutant. I also wish to bear in mind the careers of my subordinates to the best of my abilities. If I can, I'd like to sell them off all at once, with me as their manager for added value, as a set…but I wonder who would buy such a package.
We're definitely not going to become Communists, which I suppose leaves us with the capitalists. Capitalists can be convinced with profits, although that isn't to say the Commies don't have political interests of their own. A Commie is still a Commie at the end of the day. For a highly civilized and cultured citizen such as Tanya, there won't be much breathing room for her without a proper market.
If she is going to sell herself and her soldiers, it'll be better if the buyer has a lot of money. Hopefully, when the Unified States makes its way to Ildoa, they'll be able to cut her a deal.
"…Hm?"
Tanya is suddenly overcome with a strange feeling. She brushes off the conspiracy that flashes in her mind with a smile.
"I probably shouldn't overthink things."
If that is the endgame to all of this, then Tanya is definitely reading too much into things. She must be tired from the past few weeks.
Tanya silently begins walking again through the recently occupied imperial territory. Her adjutant shoots her looks of doubt as she follows her, but thankfully, she knows when it isn't good to pry.
Right now, we—the Empire—are invading Ildoa.
One thing can be clearly seen from their new territory. Even the ruins in Ildoa are made from colorful stones. The people here are well-nourished compared to those in the Imperial camp, who can only be described as starved.
The difference in the power of our nations is stark.
If the Empire was as strong as Attila when he invaded Rome, our history may have been different. Sadly, we're no Huns.
"A powerless country, how sad…" "Colonel?"
"I'm just grumbling to myself, First Lieutenant. Pay me no mind." She waves off her adjutant and peers up at the Ildoan skies.
They are so clear, so blue, so beautiful.
It is so sunny here, a world full of sunshine.
It's so bright here that it makes the military uniforms we invaders are wearing as we push our way south stick out like a sore thumb.
This isn't a place the Empire should be.
The powerful system the Empire once held has been worn down by war, with our profits all but dried up. To top it all off, our value system is being worn away by the war as well.
We can never hope to regain our former glory from before this war. Whether we like it or not, the Reich and its Empire are on an irreversible path to their own destruction. Thinking about this, Tanya fiddles with an undersized potato and shows a wry grin while staring at some ruins.
Tanya may not be Caesar, but she knows exactly how he must have felt. She needs to cross the Rubicon, but if she crosses it, the world will be different than it was yesterday.
Tanya won't deny the possibility of changing jobs. It is an important part of advancing her career. People shouldn't deny their right to choose via their own free will.
And yet, even then.
Now that things have come to this, we all have no choice but to run through to the very end.
It can't be said that any of us desired this.
But one thing is for sure. I know that General von Zettour is making a fruitless struggle with defeat as a pretense. The die has already been cast; all that's left is to wait for the results—something we won't know until the die stops rolling.
But this is General Zettour we are talking about here. It's safe to assume he has loaded the die in some way shape or form.
Is he going to fool the Empire or the world, or everyone for that matter? Tanya has no way of knowing this.
My only choice is to try and imagine where our destination may lie. Whether it will contribute to me, or whether it will be the beginning of a new era.
All I know is that the wheels are already in motion.
There's nothing left to be said. The Empire is stretched as thin as this squalid potato.
There is only one path left for us to take: to cross the Rubicon and race through whatever lies ahead.
"The die has been cast…" And there's no going back.
(The Saga of Tanya the Evil 11, Alea Iacta Est, The End)