The Finest Hour

by Carlo Zen

  "Time?"

  The participants of the meeting glared at him with eyes that said, Don't expect to get off easy if we don't like your answer, but Zettour ignored them and looked toward the door.

  As though someone had appealed to the heavens, the door to the huge conference room came under attack from a violent knocking, causing a stir among all the participants besides one.

  "Very sorry to interrupt your conference!"

  But when the curious gazes of everyone in the meeting landed on the newly arrived soldier, he, unlike Zettour, backed up several steps and looked to one of the men in the room for help.

  "Oh, you have the code?"

  That's all that was said.

  But one sentence, one question, from the man who had been making endless ordinary conversation was enough to jolt the fellow back into reality, and he unfolded a sheet of paper he retrieved from his pocket, ready to announce its contents to the conference room.

  "Sir, telegram received! 'We are the Reich, crown of the world!' I repeat, 'We are the Reich, crown of the world!'"

  "Very good... Now then, everyone, I'll explain. As of this moment, the first phase of Operation Rot-Gelb, Operation Shock and Awe, is complete, and we've simultaneously launched the next phase, Operation Lock Pick."

  What the officer had read, in a ringing baritone voice, was a verse from the national anthem.

  Everyone in the meeting was so bewildered to hear the lyrics in this setting that when Zettour nimbly jumped up, doing a one-eighty from his previously sluggish demeanor, and not even requesting permission to speak from the chairman like he had before, they just stared at him in disbelief as if they had been tricked.

  "We're currently still confirming, but according to the code from the unit who sent the telegram, we've succeeded in destroying the Republican Rhine Army Group headquarters and rendering them completely helpless."

  "What did he just say?"

  Someone's whisper said it all.

  "The Republican Rhine Army Group HQ is destroyed?"

  When someone repeated the report in a daze, they finally began to understand what a huge thing that was.

  We blew away the enemy...the enemy army's...their general headquarters?

  "The main objective of Operation Lock Pick is to obliterate the Republican Rhine Army Group units ahead of our defensive line. The General Staff believes the units deployed in that area are the Republic's main forces, so we're effectively working toward the complete destruction of the Republican field army."

  And in response to their doubt, Zettour promptly chimed in as if his previous languor had been a ruse.

  "Our army has already destroyed the enemy's chain of command as phase one. Please look forward to future reports."

  THE SAME DAY, THE GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, OPERATIONS DIVISION

  "Open sesame."

  That day at the General Staff Office, members of every section were on edge yet unable to suppress their excitement. Still, they bustled about doing their duty to prepare for what would come next.

  The entire General Staff was enveloped in the atmosphere of exhilaration and nerves that preceded a major operation, but Operations had erupted into back-patting upon hearing news of Operation Shock and Awe's success.

  The unexpected plan to blow up the Republican Rhine Army Group headquarters, the results that caused everyone to marvel at how perfectly it had been pulled off---it was all thanks to the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion's skillful performance.

  So to Major General von Rudersdorf, who read the success telegram with a grin, things were off to a great start. Pessimists had said, "Well, at the very least we'll throw their headquarters into confusion...," but here was the pleasant outcome of expecting what he knew he could from that rascal.

  Zettour, you rascal. What a pet you've pulled out of your pocket for us. Even Rudersdorf was so delighted that for a brief moment, he wanted to forget about appearances, hit the beer hall, and roar, Cheers!

  Thanks to the Service Corps' efficient procurement of the necessary equipment and personnel for Operation Shock and Awe, Operation Lock Pick was proceeding almost completely according to plan.

  Which was why Rudersdorf wondered what was making his brother-in-arms so worried when he was called out of a meeting for an emergency or some such.

  "Just received an important message from the Foreign Office. We got an official notice from the Commonwealth via the embassy."

  "An ultimatum?"

  "No, more like the opposite. Apparently, they've taken the bizarre position that 'the time for international cooperation to restore peace has come!'"

  He gave an "ohh" of understanding. Rudersdorf could understand the awkwardness of receiving an offer for peace talks right as they were preparing for a major offensive.

  "They want to facilitate peace? So things have gotten delicate...?"

  "Exactly. And their request is extremely problematic. Supposedly they want us to respond to their peace offering, but the condition they've given is restitutio in integrum.2 And apparently, they're demanding an answer within a week."

  But the condition Major General von Zettour mentioned was so unexpected, even Rudersdorf was surprised. Restore the situation to the way it was prewar?

  "Restitutio in integrum? I don't want to say this, but that means all our hard work will have been for nothing. They've got to be kidding! Peace under those terms is out of the question. If we were going to agree to that, why would we have not once but twice eradicated threats in our region? I never want to see the borders established by the Treaty of Londinium ever again."

  Rudersdorf was a bit puzzled by the strange timing of this notice from the Commonwealth, but the terms erased his confusion, and he gave his answer roughly.

  So they're telling us to reset our national security environment to the way it was before the conflict started?

  He understood that their request was based on the balance of power theory. In other words, the proposal was only what the Commonwealth wanted for itself.

  Of course, Rudersdorf understood the reason of it, as a diplomatic motion in the name of the country's own interest. But even bias has its limits. His look said, There's no possibility that they wrote this as a joke?

  But the other man wore an equally perplexed expression.

  Which was when Rudersdorf finally realized, Ahh, that's why he had such a strange look on his face. After all, they were being offered a tone-deaf diplomatic proposal written in an absurdly self-serving tone. It was no wonder he was confused.

  "Yes, but if we ignore them, we risk an intervention. It seems that part of the Commonwealth's fleet has already begun maneuvers. I'm currently inquiring with the High Seas Fleet as to their movements..."

  But behind his puzzled expression was a struggle to understand the motive behind the Commonwealth's message.

  He had no idea what the Commonwealth authorities were thinking. The notice was dripping with egotism that made it seem like the writers were going out of their way to display what a self-serving nation they represented. But the Empire didn't know what kind of thinking went into the draft.

  For the Empire, it would be hard to swallow a request to return everything to the way it was before the war. The only possible reply was a no; in short, if the proposal was made with the expectation of refusal, it meant the Commonwealth wanted an excuse to attack the Empire.

  But then...why not just send an ultimatum?

  Or rather, would those miserly fellows really come stick their necks into a continental war where there was nothing in it for them? No one was sure about that point. That plus the intel that part of their fleet was on the move despite their strange posture made the Commonwealth's goals more or less impossible to fathom.

  Those inconsistencies gave Zettour pause, and he couldn't find a way to explain the situation well, even to himself.

  "At least for now, we haven't confirmed the mobilization of any land troops. So maybe it's just diplomatic posturing? There hasn't been an ultimatum, right?"
>
  "No, we haven't received anything like that. No sign of mobilization, either. What is the Commonwealth after, making a proposal like this?"

  "Could the root lie in their domestic situation? If you think of it as a way to get around parliament and evade the demands of their internal politics, it starts to make sense."

  "That seemed to be the consensus in the meeting of the Supreme High Command, too. Anyhow, nothing good will come of worrying about it. We just need to do our duty... So the die is cast, huh? No, I suppose we crossed the Rubicon the moment we made the Low Lands bait."

  But in the end, even if they were confused, both Zettour and Rudersdorf knew the Empire didn't have many options left at that point. In which case, their job was to simply choose the best one for the current situation.

  They understood the folly of getting distracted by external noise and losing sight of their duty. They were soldiers and officers of the Imperial Army General Staff. Their job was to push ahead, so there was nothing else they needed to do.

  "That's right. Hesitation would be the Reich's downfall. We can only press on."

  In order to catch the Republican Army in their revolving door,3 they had carried out a reorganization of the lines despite significant opposition. The bait was something the enemy couldn't resist. Hence why they flourished the red cape of the western industrial region in front of the enraged bull of the Republic to lure it to the killing grounds.

  If they didn't slay the bull with one strike, they would be the ones to get gored to death.

  "Even if the Commonwealth joins the war, how many divisions does it have in the first place? Probably less than ten it can deploy, right?"

  According to Rudersdorf's thinking, it couldn't have much effect on the Rhine front even if it did come to intervene, so he didn't see anything to worry about.

  "All we have is estimates, but seven or eight divisions, plus a division or two of cavalry. Plus a few brigades. Oh, and they also have some degree of air force capable of striking land targets."

  "If that's all, frankly, they aren't much of a threat. If they attack, all we have to do is call a police officer and have them arrested on suspicion of violating immigration law."

  Honestly, in numerical terms, the Principality of Dacia's army posed a bigger threat. The Commonwealth was an island nation. It was hard for the Empire to get to them, but the opposite was also true.

  If such a country wanted to interfere, it would have to transport troops by sea. Suppose those troops did come that long way on the water---the scale of the Commonwealth's standing army was simply not big enough to be a serious threat.

  Even a generous estimate of their available troops gave them ten divisions. The Commonwealth's infantry units could operate as a threat only on the tactical level. On the Rhine front, where well over a hundred divisions were clashing, ten wasn't nothing, but...it was still only ten.

  That wasn't enough to be a threat on the operational level, much less the strategic level.

  "Certainly, in the case of the land army, that's true, but the power gap between our navies is indisputable. It would be a headache if they put a blockade on us."

  "Whoa, whoa, are you serious, Zettour? If they could just keep a blockade going, that would be a surprise. I don't know how long you want to keep fighting this war, but I want to end it. I'm sick of getting complaints about ersatz coffee."

  In truth, the Commonwealth was still a troublesome power. There was no way to attack them without getting past the Royal Navy they were so proud of. Of course, the Imperial Navy was ashamed of it, but although it could fight as well as or better than the Republican Navy, the outcome of a battle against the Commonwealth's navy would be a toss-up at best, even if it brought all its warships to bear on the Commonwealth's navy---even just the home fleet. If the Commonwealth pulled ships from its channel fleet or the forces it had dispatched to other locations, that would be enough to make the Imperial Navy inferior.

  On the other hand...

  That was it.

  Without a finishing move, they could stare each other down as much as they wanted, but they would arrive at nothing but an endless stalemate.

  "Let's get it over with."

  "Yes, I'd certainly like to end the war sooner rather than later. So...you want to go through with that plan?"

  "Exactly. Which is why I need to ask you about the logistics... Zettour, can't you do something to make that advance possible?"

  Rudersdorf, the one who had mustered all of his know-how to draft the plan for the operation, was confident that glory and victory were within the Imperial Army's grasp. To him, the war against the Republic was like a footrace, and all that was left was to run unhindered through the tape at the finish line.

  The question was whether they could keep their strength up long enough to make it.

  "General von Rudersdorf, I had some of my staff make an estimate. East of the Rhine lines I can promise whatever you need, but if we're going as far as Parisii, we'll have to overcome the significant obstacle of distance. I can't guarantee you more than eight shells a day."

  "That's awfully stingy."

  "Furthermore, that number includes only shells under 155 mm, and we can just barely maintain that amount for a short period of time under optimal conditions. Our supply lines are nearing their limits."

  "No heavy artillery and only eight shells per gun? You've got to be kidding me."

  The number Zettour gave was so outrageous that Rudersdorf glared at him, paying no heed to the staffers in the area looking their way in shock.

  There's no way to fight a war with that allotment of shells.

  The words were on the tip of his tongue.

  "If we can't use enemy railroads, then we're forced to rely on horses and trucks. I explained the circumstances already. We've requisitioned everything we can from our regional army groups and the two occupied territories, but it's nowhere near enough."

  "I understand how hard the Service Corps is working, but getting hit with numerical reality is harsh. Under these circumstances...we could be done for if it turns into an artillery battle. If we can't get at least forty-four shells per gun per day..."

  "There aren't enough horses. We're also hopelessly low on hay. Even if we wanted to get it on the ground, it's not the right season. Neither is there enough time to have field engineers lay narrow-gauge rail in no-man's-land. We'll be running our horses into the ground to get even those eight shells and food to the front lines."

  Rudersdorf abruptly swallowed his next words. Zettour was the one telling him this, and that fact left him no choice but silence---because he knew that if Zettour was saying it couldn't be done, the depths of human ingenuity had already been plumbed.

  If the job was left up to anyone else, they probably wouldn't be able to deliver even half of what Zettour had promised.

  "My friend, I'll be frank. I agree with your plan for the operation as such. I don't intend to withhold any support I can give. I did my very best, and my very best is that number. Please understand that this is the limit of what we are capable of."

  "All right. Then how long can we operate under those terms?"

  Thus, accepting the extreme unpleasantness of their harsh reality, Rudersdorf asked where the line was. If that slim amount of supplies could be provided for a short amount of time, then how long, exactly?

  "Two weeks. If we don't get too worn down, then maybe another two weeks from there, but after that everyone should pray to God in whatever way they believe in."

  Rudersdorf thought the time limit was harsh, but he did manage to find one ray of hopeful light in it.

  If they could succeed in taking out the enemy's main forces...

  If they ripped up the enemy's ability to fight back by the roots, they would be having the ceremony to occupy Parisii's palace before the next month was out.

  "In other words, I need you to understand that if we get bogged down in trench warfare, our supply lines will become paralyzed. Our army is specialized for mobili
ty along interior lines." Zettour's grievances clearly indicated areas the Imperial Army needed to improve. "Providing logistical support for operations that go beyond our organizational plan---such as sending troops onto foreign soil---is a nightmare. If you could manage to pull horse fodder and railways out of thin air, we might be able to do the impossible. As it is, though, we're just barely managing to make penguins fly, so please understand."

  "Fine. We'll make an unstoppable advance. You sure talk like a textbook, though. But when push comes to shove, you can provide the minimum supplies for the advancing troops, right?"

  The only direction to go was forward.

  And he believed that the Service Corps, that Zettour, could get them the minimum---the bare minimum---of what they needed to do so.

  "Only to Parisii. I'm not an alchemist. Don't go assuming I can create an endless supply of gold. Also, the hard truth is that the route is too slim to deliver shells. If you can't lure in and annihilate the Republican Army's main forces, you'll have to give up on Parisii. Please keep that in mind as an officer of the General Staff."

  "Of course. Still...isn't there anything you can do about heavy artillery?"

  Rudersdorf found himself asking the favor even though he knew it was taking advantage of their friendship. Even just a little bit, please.

  "Don't be ridiculous! You were the one who said to assume enemy railroads would be basically destroyed! How are we supposed to transport heavy artillery shells and guns with no trains? I'm repeating myself, but the horses are already worked to the bone. If we work them any harder, the rate of attrition will be insupportable. The army doesn't have any logistical leeway; in fact, the eight shells I can get you, I can only get because we're commandeering farm horses and fodder stockpiles from civilians. And furthermore," Zettour glared at Rudersdorf, annoyed, as he went on in a low voice, "practically all our heavy artillery is camouflaged in place in the Low Lands! So no more crying for the moon!"

  Having personally requested the concentrated placement of those guns, Rudersdorf couldn't very well ask his friend to somehow come up with more.