by Carlo Zen
As long as it is good on paper, no one will complain. Of course, it’s possible that’s because no one knows what a formation officer is.
“‘Formation officer’? Isn’t that a rather antiquated title?”
But Tanya is a sharp one. She recognizes that it’s outdated. No doubt she will soon realize that this is a way of using existing systems to cover for what he wants to push through.
I can count on this one. She’s so outstanding that if she were a man, I would be happy to marry my granddaughter to her. She is so reliable, in fact, that it’s all too easy to lose sight of the fact that the soldier before him is just a little girl.
“It’s difficult to give a battalion to a captain. When you succeed in assembling the unit, I’ll try to swing a promotion to major for you.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t really say that. But she will probably work harder if he can convince her that he is on her side. Creating a battalion from scratch is a lot of work. It would be advantageous if she knew she didn’t have to be on guard against the Service Corps.
“…So for all intents and purposes, I’m a battalion commander?”
“You just worry about doing the job. I’ll handle your assignment and promotion.”
Apparently, she hasn’t forgotten that she once said she wanted a battalion. She, a first lieutenant, to a brigadier general. There is no question that she is uncommonly determined and confident. And her abilities are the real thing.
She is that rare person who can be both a mage and a commanding officer. He will put her to good use, even if that means enduring the slings and arrows of the other departments.
“May I say something that is liable to provoke antipathy?”
The expression on her face is innocent, but she is being cautious enough to ask. Something liable to provoke antipathy? She’s already done that. Though the rumor that she’s getting a battalion after appealing directly to the brass hasn’t gotten around yet, she sticks out due to her rapid rise through the ranks. But if she is acknowledging the unrest, it means she understands the reality and is asking for help.
“It’s a bit late to be worried, isn’t it? What is it? Tell me.”
“I’ll have full authority over the formation of the unit?”
“As I said, we’ll do all we can to ensure you get the people and the equipment you want.”
The reply to her question is clear. She can do as she likes. If necessary, the Service Corps is prepared to support her. They even got Personnel on board to some extent, as evidenced by Kordel’s presence at the meeting.
That was the agreement from the start. Measures are in place to accommodate her preferences for personnel and gear as much as possible.
“You can organize the unit however you like. Just keep it under forty-eight members.”
He is being considerate; in a sense, it’s a way of apologizing for making her build a battalion from the ground up. The sweetest part of the deal is the size of the unit. He has procured the budget for an augmented battalion. He got an exception made, given that this was an experimental unit.
“Forty-eight people? An augmented battalion. Thank you, sir.”
“It only makes sense that our quick reaction battalion should be augmented. I was able to wrangle the budget for it on the grounds that it would be a brand-new unit.”
All he had to do was whisper, Can you even use an underfunded quick reaction force? and Operations agreed to support the project. Although he suspects he also had no small help from Rudersdorf, who respected his aims.
But above all, it was practical considerations that swayed Rudersdorf’s decision. A single unit near at hand that can be easily used is far more valuable than multiple forces stationed far away. Anyone would agree.
“The only restriction is that you can’t draw people from the Western or Northern Army Groups. That part is nonnegotiable.”
The only limiting factor is where the personnel can come from. It won’t do to have her plucking elite soldiers off the front lines. That’s partly out of consideration for the regional commands and Operations, but it also means that the core members of the new unit will be people without battle experience.
It’ll be a good opportunity for the various regional armies to share their experience. All the better if a little goodwill between the armies allows their pipelines to be reorganized. It would benefit the Empire in all sorts of ways.
“We decided to make it a battalion of aerial mages to match your own specialty.”
That goes without saying. The orders to create a unit of aerial mages have been practically issued already; it’s just a matter of time. Captain von Degurechaff seems to know that as well and says nothing. Well, dispensing with idle chatter is certainly efficient.
“Who will I report to?”
She asks exactly what she wants to know. It would be so much easier if I could just say, “Readiness Command,” but he can only offer a pained smile.
It certainly is necessary for a commander to think about who they’re serving under. Her analytical approach shows how qualified she is. She is asking in earnest, not sarcastically.
“Since yours will be a quick reaction force, you’ll be under the direct command of the General Staff. Your formation code will be in the V600s. Any special requests?”
“Not particularly. Please pick whatever is appropriate.”
Zero hesitation. Not much interest in codes or ornamentation, then? Although she does seem to understand the necessity of having them, in terms of identifying the unit.
“Then you’ll be 601. Basically speaking, you have no superior officer. Be glad. You’re reporting directly to General Staff.”
“Everything’s coming up roses.”
“Yes, indeed. Anyone would be jealous.”
Being a battalion commander is popularly considered the best job—still able to go into battle as a commander and possessing a great degree of autonomy. Basically, it allows the leader to fight their own war. It’s an enjoyable job for those skilled enough to do it.
Reporting directly to the General Staff makes things even better, since much of the annoying bureaucratic tape gets removed.
“How much time do I have to organize the unit?”
“The sooner you can do it, the better, but there’s no set deadline.”
“I see. Then I’ll consider my selections carefully.”
As for where they’ll be stationed, the north and west don’t really have the wherewithal to accommodate them because of their proximity to the main fight, while the south and east tend to be sticky politically. Most likely they’ll be fairly removed from those areas, somewhere in between them. Even if his aides would be handling the details instead of him, he can guess that much.
“I imagine you’ll be based somewhere in the southeast.”
“Understood, sir.”
As far as possible from where the fighting is heaviest. In other words, they’re giving her a wink that means she has as much time as she needs to train her subordinates. The smirk on Tanya’s face reminds Zettour of some unpleasant rumors he’s heard about her. Supposedly, her criteria for selecting subordinates are overly strict.
“A word of warning, Captain. You have a reputation for being a bit too choosy with your candidates.”
Appearing to lack the strength and talent to cultivate subordinates is a big minus. It’s a given in the military that you don’t get to choose your colleagues. You simply have to make the best of the situation you are given.
If you can’t, then no matter how distinguished you are as an individual, you will fail as an officer and as a soldier. At best, you will be considered a lone wolf and find yourself without a friend to turn to within the organization. The packs will defeat you with their numerical advantage.
“I don’t doubt your abilities, but it’s not an especially good reputation to have. I suggest you be careful.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
She has the composure to take criticism in stride. That’s encour
aging. He suspects she already has an idea of who she wants in the unit.
“Well, you earned this through your own efforts. You should be proud.”
“Pride goeth before destruction, sir. I try to stay humble.”
“Great. I think that attitude will serve you well.”
Most importantly, this girl doesn’t let promotions and special privileges go to her head. She is relaxed and open; no matter how much favor she receives, she won’t lose herself in it but only work that much harder. She is truly a rare officer. Maybe you could even call her noble. Nobility has, in truth, always been a way of acting, not just a bloodline. The von isn’t everything. If the way a person comports themselves is aristocratic, then blood doesn’t matter.
“I expect the papers to come through tomorrow. Stay in your quarters tonight.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
I detect a hint of annoyance. Well, it’s understandable; her rank seems to change every day.
“Just a gesture of apology on my part. Pay it no mind.”
“No, thank you very much.”
“I have high hopes for you, Captain. I wish you great success.”
She will be granted an experimental unit. It’s a serious responsibility, and he really is expecting a great deal of her. Indeed, he hopes his experiment will bear fruit.
V600.
There is no record of that formation code anywhere. With the exception of a classified handful, the materials made public after the war contain every code. Yet there is no V600 series.
The numbering system of the Imperial Army starts with the Central Forces with codes in the V000s. If all the regional armies were added together, that still only accounts for codes up to the V400s. The only exception we could think of might be a unit under Central Technology. But the materials that were made public only go from the V000s to the V500s.
Some experts point out the possibility that V600 was the code given to a special experimental unit in order to maintain an especially high level of secrecy. The fierce technological race that took place during the Great War resulted in a much more advanced world than before the conflict. Winning that race required utmost secrecy. Perhaps they set up a unit outside the normal numbering system so no one would know about it.
That suggestion was worth thinking about. Ender’s team got right to work making a list of people who seemed likely to be involved in such a project. At the same time, my own team started working through the documents from the Imperial Army’s Technology Division. We hit upon an engineer attached to Central.
We were able to obtain a chance to speak with him in person. His name was Adelheid von Schugel, and he was chief engineer. He headed the project that produced the Elinium Arms Type 97 Assault Computation Orb in the middle of the war, which was hailed as a masterpiece.
We heard the devout Mr. Schugel attended mass every Sunday morning without fail. Thanks to the offices of the priest of the church he attends, we were able to get an interview. Luckily, he allowed us to visit, although we would be closely monitored.
Mr. Schugel was a man of intellect, as we heard. “It is my joy to welcome visitors from afar on a day I’ve prayed to God. It must be what the Lord wishes,” he murmured, showing great hospitality to us considering we were intruding on the Sabbath.
Honestly, it caught me off guard. I was expecting an imperial engineer to be more difficult. I confessed my narrow-mindedness in doubting such a gentle person as Mr. Schugel, and asked for his forgiveness.
“You’ve seen the error of your ways. All things happen according to his will.”
He accepted my apology with a smile, and immediately after that we asked him about the V600 unit. But the moment we mentioned it, the military police officer who must have been there to referee the interview prevented Mr. Schugel from answering. There was something there. We were sure of it.
But Mr. Schugel, with a wry smile at the MP, said something completely unexpected.
“The unit code V600 doesn’t exist. But go through the records, gentlemen. Journalists need to know their history.”
He was smiling wryly when he gave us that baffling reply; we decided V600 must refer not to a unit but something else, and we continued our investigation on that basis. The key was his hint about studying history.
A unit code that didn’t seem to exist? No. It really didn’t exist. We agonized over it for close to a month before a specialist in military organization put an end to our suffering.
A colleague from the foreign desk introduced us to him, and he recognized our mistake immediately.
“A V number?” he said. “That’s a formation code.”
In the Imperial Army system, unit formation was handled by the Service Corps, and Operations actually made use of the troops. The important point here is that the people doing the organizing and the people doing the deploying were in different departments. Normally, the latter would simply take over the numbers under which the former had assembled a unit.
For example, say the Service Corps created unit V101 with the intention of replenishing the central forces. Operations would put it to work as the 101st Task Force. But if it wasn’t clear where a unit was assigned, they would pick a code that wasn’t normally used in order to avoid misunderstandings. So obviously, the formation code V600 could exist even if no unit in the six hundreds did.
That’s what confused us. We’d been chasing a six-hundred-unit ghost of our own creation. I hope you’ll laugh at us. We thought we had figured out the truth, but look where it got us.
We made an impromptu decision to head for the beer hall to collect information, and I record only that we spent the entire day there. (Sadly, we weren’t able to expense the trip.)
Now I understood. The wise Mr. Schugel thought we were onto something. His one mistake was thinking I’d done enough studying to understand his cryptic advice.
But now we were getting somewhere, we were sure. For some reason, we all had terrible headaches, but we started poring over the unit formation paperwork left behind by the Service Corps section of the Imperial Army General Staff Office. And we had no trouble finding what we were looking for.
Among all those neatly organized files, there was only one with the number six hundred, as if it were begging to be found. But it was practically empty. There was just one simple memo:
Attn: Service Corps, Imperial Army General Staff Office
We guide him always, abandon him never, go where there is no path, never yielding, forever on the battlefield. Everything we do, we do for victory. We seek mages for the worst battlefields, the smallest rewards, days darkened by a forest of swords and hails of bullets, and constant danger with no guarantee of survival. To those who return go the glory and the honor.
General Staff Office 601st Formation Committee
But what was the unit code that went with formation code 601? Unfortunately, the file contained only that single piece of paper. The highly charged prose was unusual, though; normally the Imperial Army loathed anything that smacked of literary rhetoric.
Anyone who saw it would remember it. Having made up our minds about that, we began questioning mages who were in the army at the time. With the very first one we spoke to, we hit the jackpot. But what he told us was deeply disappointing.
“Oh yeah, that’s famous. About the propaganda unit, right? The people who actually applied came back pretty ticked off.”
“A propaganda unit?”
“Right. The public relations department wanted a unit that would ‘convey the justice and nobility of the Empire’ or whatever.”
“Hmm, we haven’t seen any materials that mention propaganda.”
“Well of course you haven’t. If people knew they were using a big unit of aerial mages just for propaganda, there would’ve been trouble.”
“I’m sorry, what are you trying to say?”
“I heard there was a storm of complaints from the Service Corps and the front lines, and they scrapped the whole thing. It’s a pretty w
ell-known story, as I recall.”
Incredulous, we spoke to several other former imperial mages. We half hoped they’d deny it and half hoped, in resignation, that they’d say, Oh yes, I heard about that.
But—and I don’t know whether this is a cruel trick of fate or a happy accident—the truth turned out to be somewhat different. Several mages gave us strong alternate accounts.
“Yes, I heard of that. They failed to come to an agreement on the idea of a Readiness Command, and that was the result.”
“Wasn’t it a propaganda unit?”
“Nah, that was just a lie. I heard V600 was the code they gave to the quick reaction force.”
“Quick reaction force?”
“Yes, they wanted a unit that could get around faster than the Great Army, but I guess it didn’t work out.”
That was from a former soldier who served in the central army.
“I think V600 was just a convenient way of referring to the combined Western and Eastern Army Groups.”
“Did you hear anything about it being a quick reaction force or propaganda?”
“Those were just bluffs. Happens a lot in wartime, you know.”
“So what kind of unit was V600?”
“The short version is that it was a reorganization of the western and eastern armies after they took a beating in the early phases of the war.”
“A reorganization?”
“Right. It was easier than dissolving them.”
“So what about the other rumors?”
“What I heard was that they were bluffs from Intelligence. To make the enemy worry that they were creating a brand-new elite unit.”
This from a former member of the Northern Army Group.
In addition to those things, we heard every kind of speculation, from the utterly plausible to the nearly absurd. We joked with each other that we could compile an encyclopedia of battlefield rumors—but it left us unsure what to do next. The more we investigated, the more new factors bubbled up. I know they say there’s no single truth, but this was ridiculous. We were completely lost.
