by Carlo Zen
The battles unfolded as if the Empire's army was completely unrivaled. The excited citizens became pro-war and showed their support.
...As a result, the troops were expected to achieve even more.
To the General Staff, that full picture was a big miscalculation. They welcomed it insofar as it meant receiving support for continuing the war.
At least, there were no signs that the people were under the influence of antiwar dissidents.
That, the General Staff could wholeheartedly embrace.
But the appearance of a hero in the southern continent and their growing inability to gauge a time to withdraw frightened them.
The loss control faction in particular, rallying around Lieutenant General von Zettour, put up a powerful resistance against the aggressive faction seeking to increase war gains.
To them, sending any more troops than absolutely necessary to the southern continent was a waste of resources that was difficult to accept. Even the strain on the supply lines would be insupportable.
What about convoy ships?
What about transport ships?
What about direct support units?
And it wasn't just the loss control faction fretting about these things. The mere thought of the mountain of challenges was enough to make any logistics officer want to bury their head in their hands and groan. Though the issue went further back than that; given that the Imperial Army was organized around interior lines strategy, they weren't even sure they could project their power properly in a foreign country.
Moving a corps on the southern continent was totally different from moving one within their home country. Even a single rifle manufactured at home had to travel a complicated route to get to a soldier in the south. And they had to assume that some percentage of them would be damaged during transport and that whole ships could be sunk on the way.
For the divisions concerned, it was worse than horrible, and in general, the Imperial Army couldn't endure losses like that. And the imperial military had only envisioned seaborne transport capabilities as far as shuttling troops to and from the imperial occupied territory in Norden. As a result, there hadn't been an urgent need to aggressively acquire transport ships, and maintenance was performed very slowly.
On top of that, the Empire was a land nation with very little concept of major sea route defense. Even their theoretical knowledge of convoying stopped at a basic awareness. That was sure to come back around to bite them.
The Commonwealth and the Republic, on the other hand, were self-sustaining to some extent thanks to a degree of industrial base in the colonies. Not only that, but they had more ships than they could count.
Meanwhile the Imperial Army could count on supplies from the new areas of imperial influence, of course, but the Empire was only connected to them insomuch as they had common interests.
Naturally, any respectable soldier would be apprehensive about relying on supplies from there.
So the General Staff ended up in another heated debate.
Everyone felt they had to stop the front from expanding any farther, but could they really ignore the enemy? They were right there. For Zettour, who had decided that they should consider shaping up the lines if need be, the time had come to devote themselves to overhauling the organization of their defensive lines and exercising their influence on other countries behind the scenes.
But before the General Staff reached their conclusion, another report came flying in from the south.
It was notice of what could be called a great victory. The news that the troops were in the process of increasing their gains with a follow-up attack would simultaneously send the people into a renewed frenzy and cause logistical difficulties for Zettour. Luckily, Zettour didn't know that yet.
SEPTEMBER 4, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, THE IMPERIAL CAPITAL
He still couldn't forget his impression the first time he saw the unit getting deployed to the southern continent. He had been excited to hear about his reports.
But then there were only two divisions on the roster.
One was a light infantry division, a new unit made up of mainly fresh troops and reserves. As for the other division, consisting of the few veterans he'd been allotted, not even a generous evaluation would say they were in good shape.
They may have had x fighting power on paper, but they had sustained heavy losses on the Rhine front. General von Romel had served in the Rhine, so he was more than well aware of how that would affect their strength. Any normal commander would despair if they couldn't expect power commensurate to their head count.
To Romel, the order to fight the southern campaign with some scraped-together second-string troops was preposterous. Which was why he petitioned the General Staff for additional troops, but he didn't get a proper answer.
Unable to bear the status quo, he made a direct request, and the answer he received after much pestering was the additional deployment of an augmented mage battalion. And how generous---it was the fine unit reporting directly to the Service Corps and Operations in the General Staff. He was thrilled to get a first-string unit with proper gear, combat experience, and a full lineup.
But the high spirits that nearly had him shouting for joy were crushed when he received the commander's evaluations.
No, the evaluations themselves were fine.
The academy, for instance, said she was up to the field officer standards. That alone made her a promising officer.
Also, she had completed higher education in the war college to qualify as a general staff officer, rare for a magic officer. And the war college also had nice things to say about her, that she met all standards desirable for an officer.
These were, well, fairly favorable evaluations.
They guaranteed that she possessed more than the standard knowledge of either a staff or field officer. But now it was wartime. The most important evaluations during a war are the ones from the battlefield, and those were all over the place.
There was a pile of especially severe criticism from the Northern Army Group. They said she was transferred after voicing a clear objection to those in authority.
The Western Army Group declined to evaluate her, saying her good and bad points neutralized each other, so it was difficult to rate her. Furthermore, she had attempted to resist orders.
She was truly a hard one to judge. But if her good points balanced out her bad points despite an attempt to disobey orders, he could smell some sort of competence.
But that didn't mean he wanted the type of officer who would try such a thing under his command. And in this situation where he had so few units, the commander of the unit he should rely on the most was such a character? It was beyond ridiculous.
Romel continued reading with a fed-up look on his face, but the ambiguous comments from the tech lab---that though the project she had been on had achieved things, it wasn't worth it---didn't do anything to make him feel better.
After reading, he thought two things.
One was that almost all of these evaluations were from HQ.
Apparently, the troops serving directly under her thought she was a great field officer. Still, it was rare to receive such a difficult person as a subordinate. Mages who followed orders but objected to the brass's plans had a tendency to get passed over.
After all, they were hard to handle.
The second was that although the evaluations were contradictory, she had achieved enough that she was considered an outstanding soldier.
Awkwardly, regardless of how she was as an officer, as an individual mage, she was thought very highly of. Her number of kills was among the highest on the Rhine front.
Plus, as a field officer, she had led breakthrough charges and ambushes unfazed. One officer called her "Mad Dog." Apparently, the trendy nickname for her at the moment was "Rusted Silver," and he could see how that made sense.
The ring of it was far from the elegance of her alias "White Silver," but he found it an appropriate one. He'd heard that the Republicans ca
lled her the "Devil of the Rhine."
In any case, strictly as a mage, she was unrivaled. As an officer, too, she was by no means incompetent. So they must have been giving her to him as reinforcements and as an excuse to get her out of their hair.
Honestly, he felt like they were foisting off their problem on him.
"...They're telling me to take a mad dog out on a walk with no leash?" He let slip a complaint. Maybe it was just prejudice, but that wasn't what it felt like to General von Romel. After all, he was basically being asked to bet on a bad hand.
"This isn't some joke. I'm not going to send my men to their doom so easily. That bunch in the General Staff are only looking at the death toll as a statistic!"
Thus, he ended up muttering complaints about the General Staff's practice of pushing its neck pains onto those in the field.
Well, I'll at least meet her. General von Romel had decided to wait for Major von Degurechaff. That was his way of showing respect for a magic officer who had gotten results---although his preconceived notions led him to brace himself when her arrival was announced.
He invited her into his office to have her report in, and once they got through the dispassionate formalities, his bad habit of trying to figure people out reared its head.
But he was already surprised to see that Major von Degurechaff, like him, preferred formal, matter-of-fact exchanges.
After all, mages and officers were a proud bunch. Perhaps you could say they were too proud, but either way, everyone in the imperial military knew it for a fact.
So he had expected the magic officer to be the aggressive, violent type despite her outward appearance.
And Romel himself expected that sort of person to get a bit upset or even angry at being welcomed with such bureaucratic fluff.
So it was a refreshing surprise to find that she calmly replied with the same empty courtesy, completely unshaken. At that point, Romel admitted to himself that his calculations had been off.
A magic officer with no sense of shame. Maybe that's why she ignored orders and attempted to resist? His concerns as an officer in combat crossed his mind.
True, she has a stout heart, but...she's the type to take matters into her own hands. He could sense it instinctively, and that worried him. How did she decide? As Romel started to worry, Degurechaff interrupted.
"Lastly, General, I'd appreciate the authority for my battalion to act independently." Graciously, with a poker face, she continued, "The General Staff has approved it," and the way she made her request was so arrogant it was invigorating.
Romel was said to be overly proud himself, so the fact that she casually made this amazingly brazen request was fantastic.
Any commissioned officer would understand just from hearing her make that one comment why the Northern and Western Groups couldn't control her.
Having a mage battalion drop out of the command structure was almost like losing a whole division. Normally, no commander could possibly accept a separate chain of command.
"That goes without saying! And Major von Degurechaff, now that you've said that much, I'm sure I can expect your unit to achieve great things, right?"
But apparently, she didn't care for Romel's reaction.
Her silence made it clear she objected to his doubt of their ability. As an attitude taken in response to a superior officer's question, it was unbelievably insolent. Ahh. But it actually made Romel realize why his superiors had given him the cold shoulder.
Even Romel hadn't been this bumptious.
"Well, what do you think?" He pressed her for a response, unconsciously hardening his voice. If she didn't answer now, he didn't care what the General Staff said---he would send her back.
"General von Romel, with all due respect...I merely omitted the effort of responding to a question that is impossible to answer."
"...What?"
But the response he got made him answer with another question. What did she just say? A question that's impossible to answer?
"I'm a soldier, not a smooth talker. I'm afraid I'm unable to explain our military capability in words."
Her tone suddenly changed. In addition to her self-important attitude, it exuded heavy sarcasm.
"And even if I were, I doubt it would satisfy you, sir; therefore, I am unable to answer."
The words rang in his ears. He heard them; they were in the official language of the Empire, pronounced correctly in the standard imperial way. He had no trouble making them out; her voice was clear as a bell.
Despite that, for a moment, he couldn't fathom her intentions. Did the girl in front of me really just say something I can't follow?
He struggled to understand. Then a little while later, he finally grasped the significance of the string of words.
"...In other words, you mean 'seeing is believing.' That's what you want to say?"
"I respectfully leave the interpretation up to you. General, please trust me and my unit."
Silence.
In her eyes was an earnest appeal. If it was only a ruse, it was madness.
He was dumbfounded in spite of himself. The feeling could only be described as shock at having witnessed something unbelievable.
A single thought came to mind.
Frontline Syndrome.
Major von Degurechaff had countless symptoms of it. The way she warned him, albeit indirectly: Don't ask stupid questions. The way she threatened him at the same time: Don't you understand how powerful I am? But then there was the logic of her sincere responses.
So not only was she arrogant, she was clearly horribly warped.
She doesn't believe in anything. Not the power of the military's leadership, not the strategy, and probably not even her fellow soldiers. Despite that, she's surprisingly loyal to the Imperial Army. You could even call her a peerlessly loyal eccentric focused solely on being the nation's guard dog.
I see... Romel understood the reason she had been disobedient in the past. She simply decided that she would be a patriot if it was good for the nation. In short, she's a capable lunatic, but the bad part is she doesn't even realize she's twisted.
"...Major, I don't have enough evidence to trust you."
She's crazy. And competent. And more sincere than anyone I've known. Rare for Romel, she was someone he was unable to judge. He did know she wouldn't be easy to handle.
That was why he asked how he could trust her.
"It's pointless for me to enumerate my feats. I'm at your service."
And her response was an obvious point. Romel could appreciate the attitude that actions speak louder than words---usually.
She wasn't conceited about her ability; neither was she a slave to her power. She spoke matter-of-factly. She was probably capable of judging what was possible and what would be difficult.
If not, she couldn't play with fire in front of an ammunition dump like she was now. In short, her insanity was backed up by limitless ability. He could only conclude she was crazy.
"I want to see what you can do. No, don't misunderstand. I mean as a strategist."
I'll call her a hero, a nut, a fellow soldier.
So she needs to demonstrate what she's capable of. Is she merely a wild animal tainted by madness? Or is she a cunning beast in possession of a deranged intellect?
Romel suddenly realized he wanted to know the answer.
"I'm sending you on a flying mission. I'd like you to take the second group. Incidentally, the idea is to give you, as Kampfgruppe Seven, authority on par with the other Kampfgruppen, even though you're a single battalion. Don't disappoint me."
I'll try her out in a somewhat independent mission. Well, I have an idea how it will turn out, but...I hope she gets results.
"Understood. We'll meet your expectations."
Just look at that.
That evil grin.
She looks thrilled.
She's so happy to have a place to fight.
Without a doubt, she's going to end up being the most horrible person I know.
And she'll probably also be one of my most reliable friends on the battlefield.
[chapter] VI The Southern Campaign
SEPTEMBER 22, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, THE SOUTHERN CONTINENT
"We'll take out all enemy artillery. Major von Degurechaff, what about your unit?"
"Huh? Reconnect me!"
"Give me HQ! We've got signal jamming, 1105! Request a bypass!"
The improvised field command post is in an uproar over the signal interruption.
On the southern front where the fighting has rapidly escalated, everyone has lost their cool.
...Well, that's how it was on the Rhine. It'd be strange if you were composed on the battlefield. And here is Tanya, her days in the southern lands no different from her days in the west.
She already knows to try patching through HQ on the wired line when the wireless won't connect.
She has experienced practically every type of combat communications problem possible in both trench and high-maneuver warfare. She's versed in the countermeasures, so she doesn't panic at this degree of trouble. She promptly proceeds through the checklist of actions that need to be taken. The radio operators immediately open a wired line to HQ.
Their efficiency is praiseworthy.
Despite the brief command chain disruption, they cope without hesitating.
But after a brief exchange, their faces go pale.
"It's not jamming! There isn't any noise! We have clear connections with units in the area! The issue is mechanical trouble on the 44th's side!"
Ahh, damn it.
She curses in her head because she knows what that would have meant on the Rhine lines. The same surely goes for anyone baptized on that front.
"Keep calling! Shortwave is fine. Inspect our equipment one more time, just in case! Hurry!"
She wants to pin her hopes on a slim possibility, but she doesn't expect anything.
Sometimes it's better to be a pessimist and expect the worst on the battlefield rather than get your hopes up. Hope is important, but if you rely on that morphine in battle, you'll be ruined.
I suppose you could say it's going as expected? One of the radio operators promptly checks out the machine, but it's fine. The machines are all operating normally. They insist that if everything here is fine, it means the 44th Mage Battalion is having mechanical trouble.
