by Carlo Zen
If that's true, it's not good.
This is a high-maneuver battle in the Barbad Desert. If they can't contact the command post of Kampfgruppe Seven, the vanguard of the left flank, it will cause more than confusion in the chain of command.
What is going on? The officers are getting frustrated, but they have the self-control to not let it show on their faces.
It's axiomatic that if officers get needlessly shaken in front of their soldiers, confusion will rapidly increase. Even the greenest officer, Second Lieutenant Grantz, knows that.
"We've established contact! On the shortwave!"
"The pass code matches!"
For a moment, relief drifts through the improvised field command post.
Tanya can't help but have a sober opinion about that. I guess the younger officers and less experienced guys can't help but think positively?
It's not easy for a logical, economically minded person to form the habit of expecting the worst, either.
It's even true in financial deals that aren't life or death. The logic of behavioral economics brilliantly reveals that when you apply it to bubbles and crises. It must be hard to optimistically prepare for the worst on a battlefield for these guys who don't have enough experience, Tanya grumbles in her mind.
"Major von Leinburg has been killed in action!"
It's the worst news, but it doesn't have to be a catastrophe, so she is relieved in her own way.
She takes a discreet glance around the command post and sees that the old-timers understand the situation well and are working their brains to get things under control. It doesn't seem like things will descend into a damaging panic.
Not bad.
When she was criticized and sent to the south for trying to take matters into her own hands and nearly resisting orders, the silver lining was that she was able to bring her battalion. Thanks to that, the time she has to spend on education is halved.
No, if she delegates part of it to her subordinates, she can halve it again.
In other words, rather than having to educate everyone at her own expense, she can get away with bearing only 25 percent of the burden of time and effort. Now that's what you call efficient.
Anyhow, any outstanding organization is constantly being maintained so its gears don't rust. Humans are the guts of an organization. And naturally, an army incorporates fatalities into the planning and maintenance of its organization.
In other words, things are arranged so that the death of a single Kampfgruppe commander, no matter how great a soldier he was, won't disturb the logic of the military organization. An army that is an aggregate of countless people who can substitute for one another is a terribly expensive but extremely resilient organization.
"HQ is calling Kampfgruppe Seven over a wide area!"
They lost contact with Major von Leinburg. Though it came in via shortwave, the report from the friendly unit is that he was killed.
Unless people really have their heads in the clouds, command is transferred to the next officer in line as soon as possible to minimize the impact to the chain. And in the Empire, where they're used to wars, command succession is rare but not unheard of.
Sadly, in this war, however, so many high-ranking leaders have fallen that command succession is becoming normalized.
"As of this moment, command of Kampfgruppe Seven falls to Major von Degurechaff. They say to get to work on reorganizing the lines immediately!"
"Degurechaff, roger. You can tell HQ."
The delivery of the notification was skillful enough to suggest it was well-practiced, and Tanya shouts her assent. She wants to yell about how she's being overworked, but she just barely manages to deny herself and refrain.
As the deputy commander of Kampfgruppe Seven, her duty under these circumstances is to make the best judgment possible.
As long as it's her duty, avoiding it is against her contract.
Premodern barbarians may have committed such injustices, but as a cultured citizen with a modern education, she absolutely cannot. So to carry out her duty, she pulls out a map that shows what vague enemy information they have and starts to get a handle on the situation.
Then just as she leans over to mark the place where Major von Leinburg and his unit were attacked...
...something grazes her back.
Her body reacts before her brain has time to think. She instantaneously covers her head and hits the ground.
Guided essentially by experience, she crawls along the earth on alert for another shot. Right after that, something rips a hole through the tent, and she hears the awful sound of whatever it was ricocheting off a building outside.
Judging from the direction, it came from extremely close to the Commonwealth-Republican Army's defensive position.
"They've got snipers out! Shit, 40 mm anti-magic sniper rounds!"
Someone shouts a warning, and people sluggishly start to respond, but it's too late. I'm so impatient I want to scream at them that a civilian security company would respond faster.
They don't even have to check the damage to know what kind of ordnance is being used---any mage is familiar with it.
The 40 mm anti-matériel rifle. It's the most powerful non-magic gun.
More often pointed at mages than matériel, it's popularly known as the anti-magic rifle. It's a natural enemy of any mage.
By comparison, getting shot at with shells with heavy metal casings that can almost nullify interference formulas isn't scary at all.
You can take several direct hits from most heavy machine guns, and in the worst case, your defensive shell will block them.
But these 40 mm rounds hardly meet any resistance ripping through protective films and can pierce defensive shells, too.
Apparently, the Commonwealth is quite proud of them. Like they resign themselves to hunting mages instead of the traditional foxes or something. They probably supplied the Republic with these guns, too.
Damn that country. If nothing else, they always take sports and war seriously. Well, I'll just consider us lucky we're not being used for duck-hunting practice.
"Suppressive fire! Pin the enemy down!"
We have perimeter defense to prevent just these sorts of hazards from getting anywhere near us. The fact that it isn't functioning in the slightest pisses me off. Some of us are working diligently, so what is everyone else doing?
Their inaction makes her want to clench the sand in her fists and scream as she lies on the ground. She can't stand it. Their performance is so terrible, she wants to shout her voice raw, inquiring what the hell the people around her are doing.
Though a 40 mm is small enough for a person to carry, it's not the sort of thing you can hide. This is such a screwup that if these weren't second-string troops, she would consider it willful laziness. She suppresses her emotions and keeps herself from clicking her tongue, but her anger won't subside.
If they had been properly on guard, the enemy couldn't possibly have gotten this close. We can't be getting sniped at so easily---normally it would never be allowed.
On top of that, I can't believe I'm the one who nearly got shot. They almost took my head off.
It's terrifying to think my logical ideas, which have the potential to contribute to anthropological economics, could be ended with savage violence...
My human capital investments nearly defaulted.
If she weren't so short, I would have been in trouble. Tanya realizes she is thankful for her height for the first time in a while.
If she had been just a little bit taller, she would have taken a direct hit to the head when she bent over. She isn't sure whether to feel happy or sad, but given that she's alive, she opts for happy.
In any case, what she immediately thinks of are the basic steps to countering snipers. The classic way is to thoroughly bombard the suspected hiding place. Not that the Imperial Army's supply lines are sturdy enough to allow for such extravagant shell use. But lamentably, if not doing it puts me in danger, it must be done. Aft
er all, if we were in trenches, we could sweep through area by area, but this is a desert. Here, the enemies can hide in the shadows of sand dunes, so it would take an awful lot of time and effort to find them.
"Blow up the entire area to get the snipers!"
In that case, in order to keep myself safe, unhesitatingly attacking the whole area is the correct choice. You may not be able to use that tactic in the city, but in the desert, there's no need for scruples.
"What was our direct support doing?! Get rid of them---now!"
Just then, her aide-de-camp Weiss gains temporary control. He takes the lead on eliminating the snipers by sending the response team as reinforcements.
Thanks to that, Tanya can focus on patching up the chain of command, which she's grateful for.
Yeah, no matter the era, an exceptional vice commander will always come in handy. He's so brilliant that if I were in Personnel, I'd be advocating for his promotion.
Anyhow, having left the odd jobs up to her subordinate, Tanya has to get cracking on her own prioritized list of tasks.
She can't just wait around for orders and intel to come in. If she doesn't get an understanding of the situation and decide what to do about it soon, they could suffer losses. That makes even Tanya nervous, but she can't let the people around her see that.
Luckily, the radio operator and the apparatus are safe. They had contact.
She should handle things calmly, with the usual smile.
Just like negotiating, this situation can benefit from putting up a brave front.
"This is Major von Degurechaff. I've assumed command. Report your status." She laughs as she warmly informs the radio operator, "I nearly just met the same fate as your boss."
The reply comes back filled with the same humor.
If she can smile, then they can smile back, I guess.
That's a good sign. If it were a stiff, nervous newbie who had survived, she would have lost hope.
It's always easier to do your job when you have a partner, or competitor in a negotiation, who you can trust. That's gotta be true not just in business but everywhere.
"44th Battalion to CP. Captain Carlos here, I've taken over command."
She also appreciates that he asks if she's injured. A commander can't let any complaints slip out under these circumstances, so even if you're hurt, all you can do is deal. Man, even the lower-ranking officers in the Imperial Army have guts. Ahh, Tanya adds in her head, suddenly feeling relaxed, this is fun. After all, if anyone goes into hysterics, the only thing to do is "accidentally" shoot them, so nothing helps more than having tough officers.
The fact that he's not in total panic, even though his commander was just blown away, is worthy of special mention. Of course, even corporate life would have been fun with this sort of subordinate.
Thinking back on all the trouble and confusion training successors entailed, I feel like there's a lot companies could learn from the army. I should write a book about this for corporate managers.
A business book about administration strategy based on military strategy sure would have been useful; the needs are definitely there.
"Captain Carlos, this is Major von Degurechaff. Your reception's bad. Can you improve it?"
The trouble is the grainy signal. She has a connection but via shortwave, and on a battlefield, the quality is outrageously bad.
"My apologies. This is the best I can do. An enemy sniper took out all the machines."
"I guess this is what we have to work with, then. Well, let's get down to business."
The trip south on the boat was quite pleasant. Maybe it was because their ride was a converted Reichspost cargo ship. For a ship to transport troops, it was remarkably comfortable.
Come to think of it, the good treatment probably relaxed them too much.
But there was nothing to be done about that. Having just enjoyed the officer mess lunch of which the navy was so proud, Grantz and the others felt they had gotten a proper meal for the first time in a long while. Even the battalion commander was pleased enough to give it passing marks.
That said, it's her fault that we're here in the first place.
...She had attempted to exceed her authority right before the cease-fire. Normally, that was the kind of spark that could cause major problems.
After all, it was an outrage---more like resisting orders than overstepping her authority. The operation was rejected by the normal procedure, and then her appeal was rejected. All that was fine. But once she grabbed the base commander's lapels and essentially threatened him, there was no way to cover it up.
They had been just about to sortie after she shook off even his efforts to stop her. Yes, their sincere, conscientious battalion commander did that. It was enough to make First Lieutenant Weiss, her longtime aide-de-camp, wonder under his breath if she would get court-martialed. For a while, it kept seeming like her summons would arrive.
But ironically, the arrival of an external threat blew all those issues away.
The intervention of the Commonwealth...
Nominally, the Republic had asked the Commonwealth to mediate peace negotiations.
But then the negotiators offered the same terms that were rejected in the "notice" they sent before---with the assumption they would be rejected again.
As such, anyone could see they had no intention of mediating peace talks. The terms were too biased. There was even a one-sided "final notice."
Of course, the Empire spurned the Commonwealth's ultimatum. As everyone expected, it was flatly rejected at once.
But what the Empire didn't expect was the Republican government's declaration of total resistance. The Empire had been negotiating for peace with the Republic under the assumption of a conditional surrender. Instead, General de Lugo, leading the escaped remnants of the army, declared resistance as vice minister of Defense and began claiming that he and his supporters were the true Republican government.
Officially, of course, the government was in the capital occupied by the Empire, but the troops and most of the colonies sided with de Lugo.
Contrary to their beliefs that he was a Commonwealth puppet, de Lugo proclaimed the Free Republic. He mustered the colonies on the southern continent and called for continuing the war against the Empire.
And the Republican forces stationed on the politically tumultuous southern continent were too heavily equipped to be called regional patrol units. The mages stationed there with an eye on countering the Commonwealth or the Kingdom of Ildoa posed no small threat.
It went without saying that the Imperial Army General Staff was at wit's end.
The Free Republic, which allied itself with the Commonwealth, was capable of mobilizing all of that against the Empire. The trick was to leave more than a certain number of troops on the mainland while taking care of the situation on the southern continent; faced with such a challenge, the higher-ups apparently decided that they needed Grantz's battalion commander, even though she had a tendency to take matters into her own hands.
They did cancel all her pending decorations applications from the Rhine front, though. She couldn't be completely defended. On the other hand, that was as far as their ire went.
When it came to the commander, that treatment did seem par for the course.
But as a result, people ended up conscious of how valuable it was to have a strong mage force. Grantz and the others were surprised and delighted by the much-improved pay they ended up getting.
The one problem was that despite the raise, in the desert-covered southern lands, there wasn't really a way to spend their salary anyway.
The southern continent was famous for its harsh climate, so they could accept their fate to some extent, but they couldn't help but want to whine about how badly they longed for an ice-cold beer.
Other than that, they were on board with the strategy of striking the Commonwealth and Republican colonies to take away their ability to continue fighting.
Cracking down is a fine strategy.
Both Lieutenant Weiss and the commander basically agreed on that point.
The issue was the quality of the troops who were deployed to the south. They were undoubtedly second-string units. The reserves and replenishments that had been scraped together were severely lacking in training.
They were so bad they made even Grantz, who had been treated like a chick still wearing its eggshell on the Rhine front, seem like a fully prepared soldier. Surely that was why they saw value in using a unit baptized in iron on the Rhine.
The gossipy old-timers placed bets on when General von Romel, the corps commander, would explode. Incidentally, the most popular wager was that he had already lost his temper.
That was how it was. The battalion was more than welcome due to all the veterans.
One look at the transport ship was enough to see how wholeheartedly Commander von Romel welcomed them. He clearly expects a lot from us. And having things expected of you isn't a bad thing.
...I want to punch my past self for thinking that.
Magic Second Lieutenant Warren Grantz mentally gave his past self a light wallop and then moved to focus on the situation before him.
The mission was simple.
It was a mission to counter snipers. In this limitless rolling desert zone with no shortages of hiding places, they had to find camouflaged snipers. The enemy was smart; they wouldn't be found so easily. So Grantz and his units' only option was to blow the whole area sky-high using explosion formulas, but that method caused its own problems. No one had any idea how they could confirm whether they got them or not.
"HQ to all units. I say again, HQ to all units."
On top of that, the desert dust put even their durable infantry rifles out of commission. The other machines were hopeless. Computation orbs did all right, but the bullets for holding formulas required frequent inspections on this battlefield. No matter how reliable the newest Type 97 Assault Computation Orb was, if the critical magic bullets weren't stable, it was nearly impossible to function.
