by Carlo Zen
"It's a tricky situation."
It sure is. The pair exchanged tired smiles. Rudersdorf, who had chimed in, seemed to grasp the nature of the problem.
Ultimately, it wasn't an issue of whether the Kingdom of Ildoa meant to invade or not. They had demonstrated quite clearly that their forces were capable of it. That was enough for Zettour's brain, trained to act with the worst scenario in mind, to sound the alarm.
Ildoa is a potential threat.
And potential threats had to be prepared for.
This simple conclusion just seemed so ridiculous. While hoping that the defense units they stationed in the south would end up doing nothing, it would probably still be necessary to draw troops off from the shattered remains of the Great Army deployed in the east.
The outlook on the war with the Federation would require substantial revisions. When he glanced at the Operations man, Rudersdorf's red face was practically exploding. He seemed to be struggling to suppress his anger.
"...If we can stick it to those macaroni bastards, I don't care what it costs." If they had been at dinner, Rudersdorf probably would have been stabbing his fork into his pasta, even if it was poor manners. His angry, hostile outburst was a straightforward expression of the general mood in the office.
"I agree completely. Allow me to point out something wonderful," Zettour replied in spite of himself.
"What's that?"
"Those dear macaroni bastards are our precious allies. And if I may add one more thing, they're our friends who control the supply lines to the Southern Continent Expeditionary Army Corps." He continued, "Do you understand?" knowing how obvious it was. He still had to say it. "At least formally, they're a wonderful allied army."
It wasn't hard to memorize things he didn't believe. Zettour modestly offered his opinion. "For now, that is... And I think it would be logical, militarily, to hope that they continue to be."
"Nrgh..."
"Considering the strategic environment, we have no choice."
The Empire's situation was, in a word, a deadlock.
It wasn't supposed to be this way, everyone groaned. Everything that happened leading up to the war had been a series of unexpected events.
Theoretically, there should have been a way out of the encirclement. It was possible that the Empire could break out by smashing the Entente Alliance to the north and Dacia to the south. But did their victories on either of those fronts accomplish anything? The answer to this rhetorical question was clear.
They had plunged into all-out war, but what was the result? It hadn't contributed one bit to the improvement of their national security like they had anticipated with their existing theories. The best thing to do at this point was to not make any more enemies.
"Putting our personal tastes aside, I really have to wonder whether squashing those flies down south might not just be all pain and no gain."
"Wouldn't it be worth the effort to protect our tender nether regions?"
"It's true that we'd have to do something if they were aiming for that, but..." Zettour made an honest admission of his feelings before the other staff officers. "If they're not going to start a fight of their own accord, then it's less costly for us to simply leave them alone. I don't want to get buried in more occupation admin work. And I'd like to avoid tying troops down defending even more captured territory."
It was precisely because he was the head of the Service Corps, which was treated like a bunch of gofers, that he had to bring up this reality despite knowing his counterpart in Operations wouldn't like it. The burden of occupied territory put a strain on the Imperial Army's administrative arm.
Occupying land meant stationing soldiers on it. Taking troops who could be used on campaigns and instead scattering them across former enemy territory was as good as taking them out of the action.
"The bottom line is that this will inevitably turn into a quagmire if we gain more territory with no peace."
The Imperial Army didn't have infinite soldiers. Only by using them with extreme efficiency was it possible to maintain national security. The essence of interior lines strategy was mobility.
They had to recognize that the two-step process of annihilating the enemy army and convincing their leader to surrender didn't work in a total war scenario.
Before, when the enemy suffered so many casualties that they were no longer able to defend their capital, they would have been forced to consider peace; national security strategies were created under the assumption that if once the enemy military faltered, all that was left was to march on their capital.
Even Zettour had to admit that the idea of threatening the capitals of their enemies was practically a dream.
A case in point was the mistake they made against the Republic.
The Empire had planned a thorough destruction of the enemy field army in order to end the war. It whispered, Open sesame; spun the revolving door; and achieved the utter annihilation of their opponents.
Yes, they had pulled it off perfectly.
The instrument of violence that was the Imperial Army achieved the utter obliteration of the instrument of violence known as the Republican Army and boasted, We are the Reich, crown of the world.
Given the context, it could be argued that the army had fulfilled its duty.
Yet there was a truth that everyone had to accept.
Victory on the western front hadn't ended the war. And so they then dispatched troops to the southern continent, clashed with the Commonwealth, and as if to top it off, got sucked into a quagmire in the east with the Communist Federation.
"...War is hard," Zettour murmured in a dried-up voice, clenching the butt of his cigar in his teeth. That was his impression as one of the people in charge of coming up with war plans, who had been involved in drafting numerous operations.
They were continually faced with circumstances they never anticipated. Of course, they weren't foolish enough to cling so hard to theories that they lost sight of the fog of war.
But Zettour, a veteran general of the Imperial Army, was confused. The reports from the field were strange. He couldn't quite get a feel for what was happening.
"That's an awfully trite conclusion to reach after piling up so many corpses and blowing through our nation's budget."
It was only natural that his old friend would make such a biting comment. Zettour couldn't deny the accusation. He straightened up a bit and remarked solemnly, "The truth is often unremarkable."
"For example?"
"Rudersdorf, you make too little of thought and contemplation. Even a commonplace phrase can hold deeper meaning."
Human beings aren't perfect. Having participated in war, at times observing, at times leading, Zettour had reached that commonplace conclusion.
"This isn't a circular argument---that's just how people are. We can't fall into the trap of idealism, wishing for how we think things should be, but rather we must look at reality, see them for what they are."
Someone like a devout preacher might crow that God had great intentions for every premise given to humans...but Zettour thought that was laughably absurd.
This is pitiful even for me, he thought as he spoke in an aggravated tone. "It's impossible to put too much faith in intellect and reason. We have to think with that premise in mind."
It irritated him that the people around him were nodding---"Ohhh." It's contradictory if I do say so myself, he felt like scoffing. Luckily, it should probably be said, his time for dwelling on that went out the window when his esteemed friend asked a question.
"General von Zettour, it's a bit much, but I'd like to ask a favor of you."
"Which is?"
"Could you reserve a case of cigars for me? There are so many leeches lately. They pester me on the front lines when I'm observing, too---I can't stand it."
"You mean you want to burn the bloodsuckers to death? Well, I get the feeling, but..." I understand that you're stressed. Zettour winced.
There may have been a lull in the east, but there was no
telling what would happen with the mobilization at the border with Ildoa... It was like the Kingdom of Ildoa had stabbed them in the back.
It was only natural that Operations had been thrown into confusion. Zettour understood so well, it made him sick.
"Unfortunately, I'm turning down your request. Make do with this." Zettour tossed him a cigar, then lit his own and puffed a couple of times. "We need to look at things from multiple angles."
"What?"
"Even your leeches. For example, in the field of medicine, there are ways to make good use of leeches. Didn't you know that?"
"You can use those things?"
Zettour responded to his skepticism firmly. "There is such a thing as medicinal leeches. So even bloodsucking has its uses."
"You're saying to let them suck my lifeblood?"
"I heard that sometimes that's the way to get healthy." He spoke a little forcefully and the other man understood.
"Well, the more you know! You have my thanks. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask you one more thing."
"Anything at all."
"Are people actually happy to be treated with leeches?"
"Hmm, that's one thing I can't say for sure. I'm a career soldier, as you see. I know nothing about medicine."
It was a roundabout way to refuse to comment.
Zettour didn't need Rudersdorf to point that out to him---he'd been mulling it over himself for some time now. Honestly, there were probably no living things who would be happy to have their blood sucked.
He didn't even need to ask himself whether public opinion in the Empire would welcome this move from Ildoa.
"...Then I really would like you to have a cigar ready..."
"Let's make plans to consider it later."
Having just barely made it through the conversation, they both sighed. Strategic plotting against Ildoa was a political taboo for the Imperial Army.
Of course, in terms of a plan itself, they did have one.
Steps for opening hostilities, victory, and peace via border defense reinforced by the Great Army.
In other words, an interior lines strategy. With its head stuck in the vexing swamp of the east, the Empire had no hope of carrying out such a thing.
It was terribly likely that it was necessary to consider a just-in-case scenario.
"So which units should we recall?"
"I've already identified which of the units scattered in every direction can be moved."
"...This is it?" Rudersdorf complained with a glance at the estimate, and Zettour shrugged.
"You know most of our combat units were sent to the east. The tactical forces are your jurisdiction, so you must already understand."
"It's not enough---it's not anywhere near enough. Please do something."
"Do you flee the scene of a fire just because there aren't enough firefighters? Things are finite; it's a fact of life."
It's not possible to get something from nothing, but they also wouldn't get anywhere unless they had something to work with. Zettour and Rudersdorf's testy conversation made their task terribly clear.
"I can't take responsibility for the defense of the southern border like this. It might be better to just pull troops from the southern continent."
"And let the Free Republic have its way? Do you have any idea how many weapons will find their way into the partisans' hands if we do that?"
"Then it's simple. Give me troops, Zettour."
They were going in circles.
They were both quite aware that their respective positions were unreasonable.
For top officers inhabiting the General Staff Office, this conversation was incredibly basic. You could even say it was lacking in intelligence.
But Zettour had to respond. He had to.
"We already drafted any young people we could mobilize early. Or are you saying we should call up another year ahead of time? Seventeen-year-old draftees! What splendid youthfulness they'll bring!"
"You'd have me send in troops that green? That would be plenty if you want to show the world the extent of our ineptitude."
Zettour spat self-deprecating remarks, and Rudersdorf had to sigh in disgust---their resource situation was getting that desperate.
The Imperial Army had no reserves to rely on.
What little population of working age available to call upon had already been sent into industry or onto the battlefield. They were wringing out any manpower they could. They couldn't meet ends even when they mobilized the young people ahead of schedule.
The Imperial Army couldn't avoid its shortage of soldiers, a physical limit.
"Griping is pointless. Let's turn our attention back to work."
"How irritating this is." Rudersdorf grumbled and then said, "General von Zettour, treat this as an official inquiry: If you were going to draw troops off, where would you take them from?"
"I'd like to deny it, but there's probably no choice but the east."
"What makes you say that?"
"We just fought off their limited offensive. That's more than enough for a while. Optimistically speaking, we should be able to expect a lull in the fighting."
"So the risk to the east is within acceptable bounds?"
When the Operations man began to grumble, Zettour cut him off and offered his opinion, well aware it was only a tentative idea.
"I can't give you what I don't have, but if Operations can accept the risk in the east, I think we could make it work. And...I could take a handful from the Dacia and Norden fronts. There's also the eastern units resting after rotating off the front line. How about sending them down to the south?"
If they bent over backward a little bit, this plan to station troops defensively was doable. Having grasped the Operations man's paradigm, Zettour planned to push through a plan that entailed minimal overexertion.
The staff officer Zettour's judgment was sound, on the whole. But apparently, Rudersdorf still felt something was missing.
"A delaying defense would be possible like that, but it'd be great to have some mobile reserves."
"I've already offered you all I can. The best I could do for mobile reserves is a newly formed brigade or maybe a division."
"That won't cut it. This is for fighting fires! The existence of backup fighting power makes a huge difference."
Rudersdorf was stubborn as he demanded troops with his eyes: Cough them up. Perhaps it would be proper to praise his strong will.
Or perhaps his lack of cooperation should be lamented. But anyone who could confidently declare exactly what they needed would be able to avoid the folly of holding back and then heading off on a mission they had no hope of accomplishing.
"Let's quit beating around the bush. What do you want?"
In all truth, when a request was believable in its necessity, Zettour had no choice but to compromise.
"Give me your Salamander Kampfgruppe."
"Non, nein, no, iie, nicht. That about does it, I think?"
"I'm sure you could give it to me."
Zettour wasn't one to put up with such brusque requests. That said, it was only because he and Rudersdorf were old friends that restraint could be cast off so completely.
"I can't."
"...Do you have a reason why? I heard they were being treated like guests in the east since they're directly under our jurisdiction."
"Just the other day, they had to rush to defend the village where the Council for Self-Government is located. Did you not read the report? I don't understand why the decision to keep a fighting unit who so accurately grasps Central's will at ground zero gets so little respect. And besides," continued Zettour. "That's a test unit. It's a Kampfgruppe experiment. I'm fairly certain employing it in the east is best."
If you threw a research model or prototype into an actual battle before properly testing it just because it was performing well and busted it up, what were you left with?
"I don't deny that, but Operations would like to hear from some people with experience on the
front lines out there. It would be a good opportunity to learn what it's really like in the field as a Kampfgruppe."
That's a great excuse, but... Zettour sighed. Lately, his rate of sighs and complaints had gone up again---to the point that he couldn't help but notice it with irritation.
"You just don't want to have to apologize to the guys in the east as much."
"You're not wrong."
You Operations bastards! How much easier it would be if he could just say that. These guys were always taking the initiative to think from someone else's point of view and then doing exactly what they wouldn't like.
It was exceedingly frustrating for Zettour to not know whether to praise Rudersdorf as the manifestation of the ideal staff officer or honestly lament what a pain in the ass he was.
"I'm warning you in advance that depending on the situation, I'll transfer them as needed. And if they are returned under that condition, they'll serve as strategic reserves again."
"All right, it's a deal," Rudersdorf responded instantaneously. "That means eighteen divisions and an armored division. Plus two units of mobile reserves. Add that to the Southern Army Group's border patrol and we have the minimum of what we need." Rudersdorf must have been truly worried. His relief was genuine as he uttered a "sheesh" and let his shoulders drop. "It's roughly the same number as Ildoa is mobilizing. That said, if they get serious, they could shift to a general mobilization and outnumber us."
"They won't go that far. Ildoa wouldn't bother playing both sides like this if that was their plan."
"You never know! People from the southern countries are full of passion, but it's not so uncommon for these fiery people to be crafty strategists in their own right."
"True." Zettour winced. You could call Rudersdorf himself a prime example, maybe. Though he was a man of formidable vitality and stubbornness to match his stony exterior, it was through his cleverness that he made his mark on the battlefield as an Operations expert.
"So your brain does work in a pinch."
"What was that, Zettour?"
"Nothing. So who shall we send to observe?"
"Do you want to go?"
Though it was for only a moment, saying he wasn't tempted would have been a lie.
Zettour had a lot of experience in the field of operations, too, so there was no way the thought of marching into a potential enemy's territory and checking things out didn't make him curious.
