Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

by Carlo Zen

  Communism was an idealistic doctrine.

  The official dogma said the party couldn’t get its hands dirty. Everyone involved knew the reality, but constructing a facade had proven highly effective.

  “…So you mean an image strategy?”

  “Exactly. And I’m not just talking about with the Commonwealth. I want to focus on personality over competence for all our overseas officers. Whenever possible, choose an idealist who is loyal to the party. Someone who’s incompetent but a good person is perfect.”

  Party members devoted to ideals frequently ended up causing trouble for the party.

  One good example was the humanitarians.

  Loria had had a lot of trouble from people opposed to the purges.

  It was difficult to dispose of party members whom everyone agreed were pure, innocent, and devoted. People with nothing to feel guilty about were truly a pain—although during a war, there were plenty of things you could do with them.

  “…C-comrade, may I ask you something? Why are you so worried about our image?”

  “Understand the way democracy works. The movers and shakers in the political world of the western nations are elites like us, but they’re subordinate to public opinion. There is far more merit in using legal means to get the masses on our side than breaking the law.”

  Not that he intended to downplay the role of scheming. He was merely changing his approach. They needed to optimize their strategy for their circumstances.

  People devoted to dazzling universal philosophy, goals, and principles wouldn’t be criticized. On the contrary, perhaps they would earn sympathy. Everyone admired integrity, after all.

  “Idealists are perfect for dispatching. We have no use for them at home anyhow. So I’d like to have them spread a good image of our country abroad.”

  Good people whom anyone would label as trustworthy.

  Any foreigner with a friend like that from the Federation couldn’t have too horrible an impression of the country. If someone wary of Communism met an idealist as their first “real Communist” acquaintance, would they be able to maintain their hostility?

  There was probably nothing harder to pull off than ordering good people of another country to hate good people from the Federation. After all, taking the long view, not hating them would be more beneficial.

  It was extremely simple to build good relationships with fellow combatants in a war. Nothing brought people together more than fighting against a common enemy for a common purpose.

  “Luckily, we’re at war with the world’s enemy, the Empire.”

  “Wh-what?!”

  Loria nearly snapped that it was obvious but instead declared, “This fight may very well set the party’s course for eternity. Failure will not be tolerated.”

  A common enemy.

  Even if a state had no perpetual enemies, it had current enemies. And the Federation’s current enemy was an isolated enemy. We’re the world’s mainstream. How could someone be too stupid to recognize the Federation’s current strategic position as a welcome change from when it used to be isolated itself?! He could only consider his subordinate hopeless. How thoughtless he is, staring blankly back at me.

  Why is it always these carefree dimwits who end up in civil-military relations?!

  The Commissariat for Internal Affairs needs crafty strategists, but we’re currently overrun by scum and sadists. I don’t really care about their character, but their ineptitude is incorrigible.

  He began to despair that perhaps he should trade them out for the people in the gulag.

  “War has no meaning unless you win and end it. Everyone knows that. But almost no one knows how to win. How stupid!”

  “…Y-you may be right.”

  “And a win, comrade, must be something we can accept. Which is why we must show the world we are good Federation citizens.”

  A state had no eternal allies anyway. Only interests. But, thought Loria, doing calculations in his mind, why is it asking too much to be the winner’s friend who gets to sink his teeth into the fruit of victory with them?

  The difference between Communism and capitalism was being passed over out of diplomatic necessity due to the Empire’s arrival as their enemy.

  …So we should get as much out of that situation as we can. Loria had a hard time believing how only vaguely aware of that party officials were.

  “Either way, we won’t be able to avoid casualties. So we should fulfill our responsibilities. How do we capitalize on the casualties we can’t avoid? That is what we need to figure out.”

  For victory, the party would have to be prepared to make sacrifices. Judging by the piles of corpses on the front line, it felt like they were indifferent to human attrition.

  The casualties probably needed to be incorporated into victory as a given condition. Rather than crying over the cost, they had to think how to best take advantage of it.

  If the youth of their homeland were going to die, they needed to make their deaths as effective as possible.

  “We’ll make them owe us a favor. We’ll have our nation’s youth die for a great cause.” Loria restated it in terms understandable even to the numbskull standing before him with a look of confusion. “We’ll make them martyrs.”

  The nobility of an action was determined not by the result but by the thought.

  How many people have praised stupidity as virtue in the context of history? Then it’s simple. Appeal not to logic but emotions—and via the ultimate self-sacrifice that no one can disparage!

  “We’ll man the forward-most line of freedom, peace, and humanity against imperialism! …And we’ll make sure no one abroad can condemn the Federation’s morality.”

  [chapter] III Northern Operation

  SEPTEMBER 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN

  Every time she goes through the gate to the General Staff Office, Tanya thinks, The higher-ups really just do whatever they want.

  It’s been mere hours since she pulled her Kampfgruppe out of the east and returned to the imperial capital. They’d been sent there on the pretext of surveying the situation, but a single sudden order called them back.

  Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is diligent, has a rich work ethic, and is a far cry from those slackers who hate doing their salary’s worth of labor. But even she finds a bone to pick when the General Staff keeps changing her assignment.

  It’s no easy task to move an entire Kampfgruppe from the east back to the capital.

  After all, we report directly to the General Staff. And we were deployed to a region on the eastern front under the Eastern Army Group’s jurisdiction. It wasn’t that we were on loan to them, but we were stationed there. Of course, with orders, we were permitted to leave, but…a rapid withdrawal couldn’t possibly go smoothly.

  The biggest problem was how to get back to the capital. It’s not as simple as a long train ride with a smart card. There are limits to which train cars the Imperial Army can use. Even if we’re told on paper that efforts will be made to make a transfer more convenient…that’s not always the case in the field.

  Even in the comfy plan with the big official stamp on it, the space we are guaranteed on the trains can be lost thanks to the weather, technical issues, or someone else cutting in.

  About a week ago, Tanya had been rushing around arranging space for the armored unit and artillery’s heavy gear and managed to get her helpful adjutant to pick up some souvenirs from the east.

  A few days ago, she just barely managed to nap in the cramped first-class compartment.

  Last night, she arrived at the capital.

  And as she was busy with all that, she received yet another telegram from the General Staff. It was a message from Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf before she could even report in. It really makes you feel that the higher-ups think only of their own convenience.

  Of course, that was her personal feeling. She couldn’t very well refuse a request based on proper function and authority.

&nb
sp; So if she was summoned, she had to go. The moment in the middle of the night that she received the telegram saying to show up at the crack of dawn, she elected to take a nap, and she was right to decide that sleeping even a few hours would give her a clearer head than none at all.

  She was slightly less tired when her adjutant woke her up. Then all she had to do as a magic officer in the Imperial Army was put on her immaculately pressed uniform and pry her eyes open with some ersatz coffee, and it was time for work.

  As long as she was headed to the General Staff Office, she figured she should bring the souvenirs from the east, so she packed up her officer suitcase and prepared to leave.

  Flawlessly dressed according to regulations, she feigned quiet contemplation and nodded off in the car the General Staff sent around—she got her sleep where she could.

  From the moment she arrived at the office, she’s been willing her sleepiness away. She approaches the MP desk with a disciplined gait.

  “State your name and rank.”

  As usual, it should probably be said? Reception at the General Staff Office, though a formality, is staffed by pros who don’t slack.

  I don’t want to admit it, but I know that I stand out with my appearance as a little girl. These are guys stationed at the entrance to the General Staff Office; they must have superior recall.

  “Magic Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff of the Salamander Kampfgruppe, currently assigned to the eastern front.”

  “Colonel von Degurechaff. One moment please.”

  People who don’t understand tend to scoff at these procedures as a waste of time. Sadly, that means they’ve gotten too comfortable. Even if both parties know that omitting the administrative tasks goes against regulations, it happens fairly often between friends.

  But these fellows at the General Staff Office don’t forget to challenge visitors. It’s a manifestation of a healthy focus on their job. This is what it means to have a favorable impression of someone and respect them. How could I object to their handling of the situation when it’s based on regulations?

  “We’ve received confirmation. You’re expected. Please proceed to the Operations Division.”

  She leaves them with a thank-you and walks the halls she knows by heart. From what she can tell at a glance, there is none of the hustle and bustle that precedes a major operation.

  None of the staffers coming and going looks very tense. So then, Tanya cocks her head. She was worried that she had been summoned to be sent into another big operation, but…

  Was I wrong? She takes a closer look at the passing personnel’s expressions, though not close enough to be impolite, but… Just then her gaze rests on a certain face.

  “Oh, long time no see.”

  “If it isn’t Colonel Uger. It’s been a while.”

  They exchange salutes and pleasantries upon meeting each other again. When Tanya glances at her watch, she sees she still has some time until her meeting with General von Rudersdorf.

  “Well, it’s great to see you in one piece. Hey, are you busy today?”

  “I arrived much earlier than necessary, so…I do have some time.”

  “Then, well, come with me for a minute.”

  He winks and suggests they talk as they walk, but Tanya says, “Before that…,” sets down her suitcase, and takes something out. “I’m glad I ran into you. I was going to bring this by later—a thank-you for before.”

  She’s taken out a glass jar. It’s one of the many souvenirs she had First Lieutenant Serebryakov buy up in the east.

  “It’s honey from the region I was stationed in. You can share it with your family, if you like.”

  “Oh, honestly, this is great. Thank you.”

  Hmm? Tanya wonders about the relief in his words of gratitude. It’s only honey… Is it really something to be that happy about?

  “Well, you gave me coffee, so I thought it seemed right.”

  “Ha-ha-ha, yes, I suppose we both ended up with what we prefer.”

  Tanya knows Lieutenant Colonel Uger fairly well, since they went to war college together.

  He’s a person who can be described as tremendously serious and honest. If a mere thank-you gift of honey is enough to get a handshake of gratitude, this is pretty strange.

  “…Is the food situation in the rear as bad as all that?”

  “It’s not a crisis, so in that sense, it’s not so horrible.”

  So he must not be starving. None of the people walking by seemed to be going hungry, either.

  Well, Tanya adds.

  This is the hub of the Imperial Army, the General Staff Office. If even the staff officers were starving, it would be no time to fight a war.

  “And actually, rationing is going more smoothly compared to the beginning of the war.”

  “So life on the home front is all right?”

  “Yeah, it’s all right. Technically, we should say it’s perfectly fine in terms of calories and nutrition. Although we’re going to get awfully sick of rutabagas this winter.”

  The tired tone of his voice says it all.

  The ration system is working, but only so far as nutrient intake. Rutabagas are a root vegetable and a turnip with no reputation for flavor, at that.

  I heard they were originally used as feed for livestock. If that sort of thing has made it onto the ration list…it’s easy to gather what the actual state of affairs is like.

  “To inquire bluntly, what about luxury items?”

  “We probably can’t expect many when we’re at war. The Commonwealth’s naval blockade has deprived our tables of coffee completely.”

  “Ahhh,” she can’t help but lament.

  I don’t dislike meals aiming for efficiency, but humans are humans due to their culture and creativity. From the standpoint of respecting personal liberties, it’s sad that people’s freedom of diet has been limited.

  It’s another cruel facet of war.

  “That’s quite serious, then, isn’t it? Let’s hope for retaliation from our submarines.”

  “Indeed. Colonel von Degurechaff. I don’t know if you have time or not, but if you do, come by the Service Corps desk. I’ll treat you to lunch.”

  “Understood. I’ll be looking forward to it. Oh, but it is time, isn’t it?”

  A glance at a clock on the wall tells her it’s nearly time for her appointment.

  “Okay, if things go well, I’ll see you later.”

  Though she’s worried about the home front, her duty comes first. With a bow, she heads deeper into the General Staff Office where the Operations Division is.

  Tanya braces herself, unsure what awaits her…and encounters her greatest enemy: General von Rudersdorf beaming with a plastered-on smile.

  The smile of a war planner is never a good sign. If he’s laughing? You’d best be turning right back around and escaping, if you can. It’s like being sneak attacked by the enemy—who knows what will happen now?

  “It’s been a long time, Colonel von Degurechaff.”

  “Yes, sir, it’s been a while. My Kampfgruppe arrived in the capital yesterday! We’re currently located at the designated barracks.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard. I feel bad for the officers, but I thought we should give the men a few days on leave, so I’ve gone ahead and made those arrangements. To the extent you can, allow them to go home.”

  “I appreciate your consideration for my subordinates, sir.”

  Their conversation is based on the formulaic standard, but there is open affection. Though within the framework of superior and subordinate, their exchange seems to indicate their mutual respect.

  This is strange as well.

  Alarms go off in Tanya’s head. It’s really weird for General von Rudersdorf to be so diplomatic.

  A military man who usually gets straight to the point is inexplicably beating around the bush today?

  “All right, let’s get down to business. Colonel von Degurechaff, you’ve done a fine job with supporting the main army on the east
ern front, investigating the enemy’s status, and commanding the experimental Kampfgruppe.”

  What warm remarks.

  If she didn’t know what he was usually like, she might have been touched. That’s how amicable his tone and eyes are. Conversely, since she does know how he talks on a normal day, she shudders.

  He tells me we’re getting down to business and then praises me…? What soldier impatient to the point of rudeness would do such a thing?

  “I merely did my duty, sir.”

  “There’s no need to be modest. It’s due to your peerless devotion. General von Zettour sends his admiration as well.”

  Now the chills are really going up her spine.

  “That and please accept this without protest.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He offers her a small wooden box.

  Wondering if she’s being given a bomb, she nervously takes it and finds it to be much heavier than it looks. Now she’s sure it must be a bomb, but when she opens it, she finds…a medal?

  “It’s the White Wings Grand Iron Cross, awarded for your intelligence gathering and test run of the Kampfgruppe. And the recommendation came from—how fancy—the General Staff Military Intelligence Division.”

  “That’s…Wow. I’m so honored.”

  A “recommendation” from the General Staff Military Intelligence Division? For a White Wings Grand Iron Cross?

  To express her sentiment in metaphor, being presented with a hand grenade would have made her feel more at ease.

  This is the Operations Division deep inside the General Staff Office.

  But. Tanya tenses up. She might as well be on the front lines. No, this place is as dangerous as no-man’s-land on the intense Rhine front.

  “Now then, Colonel. You’ve performed so splendidly, so it’s hard for me to say this, but I have an order for the Kampfgruppe to be disbanded.”

  Tanya gasps. It’s so sudden.

  “I beg your pardon, General, but what did you just say?”

  “I’ll be frank, Colonel.”

  Her superior’s joke is hard to grasp. Is this what it’s like to see your shocked expression reflected in General von Rudersdorf’s eyes?