THE UNPUBLISHED MEMOIRS OF ERICH VON LERGEN (AN EX- IMPERIAL OFFICER)
As I write these memoirs, there is a certain sentiment I want make clear to future readers.
I… All of us truly believed in our nation's cause: that the Empire was a true and honorable driving force behind attaining world peace. This was a misjudgment on our parts, and one with terrible consequences. Thus, my memoirs will tell the story of my failure. They are the woes of a loser who failed his mission.
The first mistake I was confronted with took place in Ildoa. Even now when I introduce myself as Lergen in Ildoa, it will always be received with disgruntled looks. A happy face loses its smile, and the hand I offer for a handshake gets left lingering the air.
It's always saddening, but also not unwarranted for a very simple reason. You see, the name Lergen carries the same meaning as the word crook here. And as much as it pains me to say this, I can fully understand why.
It was unavoidable, really, what happened during the war. I'm embarrassed to hide behind loaded terms like unavoidable or duty, or the idea that a certain action is simply what needed to be done. My only wish in writing this is to leave a sincere historical record, and if there ever is a historian eccentric enough to hold interest in these ramblings, then perhaps they will get something out of what I'm writing today. Or maybe even more so, what I choose not to write. For you see, I am a man who lacks both tact and a place to call home, which makes me doubt I'll ever be able to shake off this reputation of being a conniving snake.
Nevertheless, I think I'll follow the example of an Imperial officer I once served under and let my pen do the talking. I can still remember how it all began. It was just after I became aware that the end was near, when it became evident victory wasn't in the cards. At the time, I was a colonel serving in the General Staff Office, working on what I was told was a top priority for the war effort: organizing an armistice with Ildoa as the mediator.
Thinking back on it, the idea that we could ever sign an armistice was nothing more than an internal ploy to appease those outside the project. For the handful of people working with me on this objective, I imagine the majority of us recognized that our true goal was to end the war by any means necessary.
I can only laugh at my past self as I write this down, but it was a terrible position to be in. My job was to hang my head down low and apologize as I petitioned for peace. It was, unfortunately, a duty I couldn't pass on to another officer…and a black mark on my past.
Winning prestige through peace negotiations was far from what the Empire originally envisioned for its victorious end to the war. You could argue all day that attaining world peace was a true victory, but it would fall on deaf ears.
I bet some of you are wondering why they would even send a soldier to work on peace deals in the first place. And, well, you would be right in questioning the very idea. Setting aside the differences between how the Reich used to operate and how things are now…a soldier is a soldier. It isn't a soldier's job to participate in politics or diplomacy. This was an egregious deviation from what the army was meant to do. Putting the source of all violence at the top of a nation will only damage it. It induces an irredeemable reversal in which government bows to the military, thus forcing the nation off track.
We knew this. At the same time, as regretful as it was, I remember how the discourse at the General Staff Office was always phrased like we stood at the head of the national strategy. Just as Zettour the Terror's name has been etched into the annals of history, there is a lot to be misunderstood about him. The latter half of the war saw many irregular, extreme cases. So it is completely understandable that there would be some misunderstandings, especially in those final days. By then, the Empire's military and the government had merged into a single entity. This progression was gradual,
with military and political affairs becoming one and the same. Maybe it's not so much that they combined…but more like they were jumbled together into one big mess. There is a discussion to be had about the General Staff Office becoming a nation unto itself within the Empire.
And thus, the Reich became a ship without a captain, leaving the General Staff with the burden of leading the entire nation. And, as fortunate or unfortunate as this may be, Zettour the Terror was just as capable of steering his country as he was at strategizing. This was why General Zettour would become unanimous with the Empire in the nation's final hours.
It was a fleeting part of the country's history, but let me be clear about this…it wasn't something that was ever intended. I know because I was there, and this is my testimony for future generations. I believe the reason why I'm still alive today is to share this.
Allow me to start by saying this with absolute certainty—the general never had any aspirations to become a dictator. He merely did what needed to be done. Just like all the millions of nameless soldiers who died on the battlefield to be forever forgotten by history, he simply carried out his duty. The Heimat absolutely needed the general to become a cog in its machine. His rise, however, was an exception in the build-up to the nation's collapse. Even until just before the Empire declared bankruptcy, the majority of us soldiers hadn't even imagined that the military was in a position to lead foreign policy.
Certainly, most people would question, Why a soldier, of all people? Which was how I also reacted at first. A soldier's job is to fight for their nation. The Empire's army and its soldiers were like Reich's fists. We senior staff officers definitely never thought of ourselves as its brain, though we were occasionally accused of doing so. We were often ridiculed as a bunch of arrogant office workers with our legs kicked up on our desks, but…it was the opposite, really. We were far too intellectual—and humble—to ever consider creating our own nation within a nation.
But, as I said, I must recognize that this was an exception. I was the very soldier who had the unfortunate fate of being haplessly dragged into the plot to end the war—a task that would make every Ildoan consider me a vile spider to this day.
Anyway, my prologue has dragged on for far too long. I'm sure my readers wish to learn the answer to the initial question: Why would an
imperial soldier ever conduct diplomatic negotiations to end the war?
You'll have to forgive my roundaboutness, something unbecoming of a senior staff officer. I was never one to discuss history. I should start by giving a detailed description of the chain of events that led up to this.
The simplest answer is that there was no one else who could do what we did. The only organization in the Empire that could conceptualize our nation's defeat was the General Staff Office's inner circle because they stood at the very heart of the army. Please take a moment to remember that up until the war, the Empire had never known defeat. This conclusive difference from the present, however small it may seem, held the Empire back at the time. Setting aside the countless losses on the battlefield—a cause for rivers of tears at the General Staff Office—we always found a way to win the war in the end.
It was what defined the Reich of old. The Empire had a powerful army, the most powerful army in the world. All diplomacy was with its military and economic might. Our formidability as a superpower was what did the talking for us.
I imagine it's probably difficult for the younger generation to picture this. The Reich today is a husk of what it used to be. It's only natural for people to learn from their mistakes, though. Those who survived the Reich accepted that it lost the war. But that certainly wasn't the case back then.
Back then, during the war.
The Empire never conducted diplomacy under the pretense that we would lose a war. You can even go as far as to say that the very notion of defeat went against every fiber of our collective being. This went for the officials at the Foreign Office as well. After all, those who have not experienced impending defeat tend to be a combination of escapists and optimists.
Soldiers were no exception, either, even those soldiers fighting in the war. It took the army an incredible amount of time and infighting to comprehend its inevitable defeat.
I doubt I would've been able to properly give up hope myself had I not visited the front with the Lergen Kampfgruppe. War is always at the mercy of the laws of physics. A particular memory of mine will always serve as a reminder of this.
It was a shocking sight I witnessed on the eastern front. A young officer from my Kampfgruppe had approached me…a far-too-young officer,
thinking back on it. War tears through a country's adult population, forcing its children to take their place. In any case, that young officer brought me to inspect the remains of one of the Federation's main battle tanks that had been destroyed only moments earlier.
I'd read about their tanks in various reports and assumed I knew what we were dealing with. Seeing the real thing, however, was worth a million reports. When I arrived at the scene, my brain failed to process how the young soldiers could possibly disable such a steel monstrosity. The machine was something from a myth, and they had taken it out with lunge mines. The sight forced me to recognize that even as one of the younger colonels, the image of war I had in my mind was long outdated.
The tanks I was familiar with were toys. You could incapacitate them with enough anti-tank rifles. However, the behemoth I saw on the battlefield was something that I felt even an aerial mage would have trouble handling. It would most certainly require high-caliber guns.
I was overwhelmed by the reality of the war; it made me realize how out of touch I was. It was why I was so taken aback by the many dangers I witnessed on the front lines. This experience taught me that the world we officers read about in the reports from the rear bore little resemblance to the real world, where men were using mines mounted on sticks to blow armor off tanks.
While I'd hardly call us fortunate, these hellish scenes baptized many of us on the front lines and helped us keep our heads in the real world. Of course, there were also many of us who would never realize this, despite standing on the battlefield…
I did everything in my power to enlighten my peers in the rear, to very little effect. I still hold nothing but thanks in my heart for those who understood my plea and lent me their strength. It's all too easy to forget the innumerable number of people who gave their all for the nation despite the dark days we found ourselves in. Some of these men and women would lose their lives on the battlefield, becoming another statistic. Others would carry out their duty knowing they would go down in history as traitors. And others would give their everything to the Heimat.
I'm not sure what I should say as someone who survived these brethren of mine. If it sounds to the reader that I have access to some sort of profound knowledge, well, that is because you weren't there. At the time, my insight
was more like a curse than anything else.
I and those around me could hear the approaching footsteps of collapse, but we had no way to run or even figure out a way to fight back. Those were truly dark days, with no way out.
Even the Foreign Office decided that the consideration of peace deals was too scandalous to be kept under wraps within its department, and it would be too dangerous if word got out. This is why the push to end the war was kept between the two generals, Zettour and Rudersdorf, and a handful of agents within the army. We all believed this was the one and only path for the Empire to come out of the war intact. And I…was one of those few agents.
For this very reason, I still have thanks in my heart for the few others who understood our cause from within. I had help from one competent and sincere imperial diplomat, in particular, who played a major part in starting the effort. His help was an unexpected source of comfort for me at the time. Counselor Conrad was my good friend… Perhaps I should call him my comrade in arms. He offered me helpful advice as I approached the negotiations with Ildoa.
"Colonel Lergen, allow me to give you a few pointers."
Counselor Conrad always spoke with the same steady, even tone of voice. The career diplomat gleamed with a sort of pre-war elegance as he continued with his aristocratic demeanor.
"Diplomacy seems flexible, but it is actually quite rigid. That being said, it is also, by and large, ever-flowing. Please understand that at the core of diplomacy exists a delicate balance between justice and reasonable compensation."
Hearing his advice, I eagerly nodded to show that I understood. As a staff officer who'd never even thought about diplomacy, I wanted all the advice I could get. His next piece of advice would definitely catch me off guard, though.
"Be aware that words like cheater or crook carry no meaning in diplomatic affairs."
I remember laughing in response to this. It didn't even seem worth mentioning. Cheater? Crook? Those two words had been erased from my dictionary and replaced with the word necessity long ago. This much seemed obvious enough to me. Being inexperienced in all things political…this was the last thing on the mind of a staff officer who shouldered the fate of
possibly losing the Reich and Heimat.
I asked for more advice, and Counselor Conrad obliged with a knowing look.
"I want you to use everything in your arsenal to find that balance I mentioned…"
I then asked him how far I should go, at which the career diplomat barked a bold laugh.
"When I say everything, I mean everything. Lying? Cheating? Deception? None of it matters. In terms of creating something from nothing, diplomacy is… It's like alchemy in a way."
I tried to draw a parallel between that idea and General Zettour's trickery on the eastern front, but my analogy was shot down instantly.
"War is the exception. Diplomacy is the norm. As long as our country exists, we must negotiate with the rest of the world's nations. Schemes and tricks can be convenient, but they are just seasoning. The most important ingredient is trust."
Well, now you're contradicting yourself. I laughed with him.
He was suggesting doing everything in my power while prizing trust. This was a strange concept that felt incompatible to me, but he was dead serious.
"It's a matter of priorities. As trust is of the utmost importance, you must do whatever it takes to gain their trust. Throw whatever you need at them— be it a person or a thing—mix it into the pot and serve them."
The diplomat spoke about trust like it was an ingredient. While I thought it was a somewhat inhumane way to phrase things, I nodded in agreement. I understood that trust was the weapon I would need to fight the battle of diplomacy. If this was what I needed to arm myself with, then I would prepare as much as possible. A good conscience would stop most people from using trust as a weapon, but unfortunately, a good conscience is often betrayed by the needs of reality.
One thing was clear: I was listening very intently to Counselor Conrad's words from the perspective of an officer who'd experienced hot war. For as we spoke, the Empire—the Reich that no longer exists—was pouring its men and women of all ages into the war front. The Heimat didn't even allow its people to sleep. O, ancestors. Please let these heroes without a voice be at rest. I'd done everything I could to end our mistake and I was ready to do anything else required.
This was why I, an officer about to head into my own battle, was so eager to receive more advice from Counselor Conrad. And he obliged me with his crystal-clear words.
"If you have trust, then the door to negotiations will be open. The general rule for these negotiations is that they must be just and the terms fair. Or, at least, each party must trust that they are."
Counselor Conrad stopped himself as he was about to reach a critical point. I'm sure my dear friend Conrad had little reason to consider whether his words would shock me. After all, we were both passengers on the same boat with the misfortune of being caught in this storm. We were both kicking and screaming as we tried to find a way to keep our ship afloat. This is why I know now that Counselor Conrad was trying to give me some bad news back then. Unfortunately, I couldn't pick up on the hints he was giving me at the time.
"Though you must have trust as your foundation, you'll also need to use everything at your disposal for the actual negotiations. Your counterpart will do the same. All that's left are the interests of your respective nations."
Regarding that point, I believe I agreed with him outright, in a way that left no room for misunderstandings. At the very least, I knew I needed to protect our country's interests and that wars are fought against opponents. This much I knew. I always performed well in both war games and actual combat. It was a point of pride for me. But performing well gives you nothing more than a good performance. There were droves of officers who could do just as well as I could in the same position. Younger staff officers could do it. But the most drastic example of them all was the officer who came to be known as Zettour the Terror.
As a man who was there to witness the General handle the war like it was his own box of toys, I can say that I have less pride in my talent and more appreciation—though not without qualms—for the systematic education I'd endured and standards I was held to as a part of his organization.
His leadership was what burned the Reich and the Heimat to ashes. Just as necessity dictated it should. Whether or not this was a good thing or a mistake is a question that will plague me until the end of my days.
Anyway, I've gotten a bit off track. At the time, I understood my diplomat friend's advice as an elementary lesson on making a bargain.
"This goes for more than just Ildoa. The ingredients they place on their
scale will occasionally differ from ours."
I attempted to equate this with the war again, but this didn't seem to resonate with Counselor Conrad. It was clear we weren't on the same page. In this regard, Counselor Conrad was as ruthless with me as he likely was with his coworkers. Like a professor taking his time to spell out his lesson for a lackluster student, he went to the trouble of giving a more in-depth explanation.
"If war is reality in its truest form, then diplomacy is fantasy in its truest form. I want you to pay close attention to the scale. Sometimes both parties may have a different understanding of what is on the scale."
He said something to this effect, I believe. Whatever the case may have been, I showed that I understood him with yet another enthusiastic nod. Unfortunately for the Reich, we staff officers had a natural defect. I myself wasn't anything close to an exception in this regard.
This foolish flaw lay in our perspective. We were trained to analyze all things in military terms. This applied to politics as well. Our warped outlook placed war before politics. Politics were simply another part of war for us. This was a grave defect for us staff officers.
I doubt even Counselor Conrad's sharp intellect could see through our boundless stupidity.
As I appeared to have followed his advice, he offered me a smile before giving me a strong pat on the back.
"I pray things go well for you. If the army is able to pave a path for us, we'll take care of the rest."
"You make me feel like the armor in a mechanized infantry unit," I replied.
The army tank would lead the charge and the diplomat foot soldiers would follow and take control of the battlefield. As a soldier, this was a very familiar approach. I'd done this many times on the eastern front; it was the same as any other battle I'd overcome with my Kampfgruppe. Whether it be on the battlefield or via diplomacy, it's always people who do the work.
The goal for both is also quite similar… I remember giving off a look of satisfaction that showed my confidence in reaching this conclusion. My meeting with Counselor Conrad would greatly influence me in my acceptance of my new duty. I'm still grateful to Counselor Conrad and the guidance he gave me that day. His advice was worth an entire division of
soldiers. But, sadly…what I needed was a whole new branch of the military. For in war, God smiles on the side with more troops. Nevertheless, the most battle-hardened soldiers occasionally pull off the implausible, which was what I had to do as I made my way to Ildoa.
I think I'll take this chance to write down my thoughts on the trip. I'd like to talk about the physical route to Ildoa in particular. It was a route I would take many times due to the unfortunate circumstances I found myself in. My path to Ildoa involved highways and train lines that spanned cities. The means of transportation were, for better or worse, in excellent condition. The roads were well-maintained, perfect for a swift armored spearhead should it come to that. However, it's hard to describe the trip as one that could be unconditionally enjoyed. I don't mean this in a physical sense, though I am talking about the physical route… Please forgive my inability to articulate this well.
Now, where should I start? At the time, both countries were connected via an international railroad. The swaying of the train on either side of the border was an unfortunate reminder of each country's state. The railroad on the Empire's side was a shaky, wobbly mess, while the pleasant sway on the Ildoan side proved to be quite comfy. The difference was obvious as soon as the train crossed the border.
It was the kind of trip that took your melancholy and turned it into a deep depression. Before the war, the Empire was proud of its railroads, which were far superior to Ildoa's. This glaring change alone was enough to make a young patriot feel sick. And once the train emerged from the mountain range that separated the two countries, what awaited on the other side was…a whole new world—a world with bright, bright lights.
I know that sounds strange, but I would like for you to understand that at the time, Ildoa had remained largely unaffected by the war. Thus, their population continued to sing the song of peace. This reality could be witnessed no matter where I went.
The sun, its people, the city lights—this country just south of the Empire was so dazzling in so many different ways. The streets were open, there were no inspections, and what's more, you were free to drive around in your own car. It was a peaceful world where even the idea of blackouts during bomber raids was alien.
The source of this light was their neutrality. At the time, I was like a
zombie stumbling over from the doom and gloom that hung over the Empire, and there was something inside me that made the term neutrality unbearable. I can admit now this feeling was my own jealousy. I assume this would've been the natural reaction for any downtrodden Imperial citizen who stepped foot into the world of never-ending spring that was Ildoa. Ildoa truly played their cards right.
While I doubt any Ildoan readers would be happy to hear that coming from me, it was the honest truth. They were doing so well at the time.
Objectively speaking, the Ildoan government deserves high praise for its efforts to keep its people prosperous and safe during the war. Many Ildoans criticize their current government and military without realizing this. What a terrible misunderstanding they are making. I'd like to speak on behalf of its officials, who are often the object of discontent for what only seem to be operational mistakes and blunders in hindsight.
Again, I doubt they would be happy to hear my praises…but I must write the truth. I understand why, of course. Historically, the country was not without its devastating losses on the battlefield. But they were geniuses when it came to preventing conflict. On the other hand, the Empire surely had our own share of geniuses when it came to treatment. But please understand that prevention is always better than treatment. This difference kept the Empire at war while Ildoa enjoyed its long period of peace.
I have one particular episode that exemplifies the large divide between the two countries. While I know it may seem insignificant, let me confess here how difficult it was to find a gift for my diplomatic mission. While I may have been there on official business, the diplomatic nature of my visit made my visit a bit more personal. And let me tell you, the Ildoans spared no expense when it came to gifts.
Whenever I visited Ildoa, they showered me with the most wonderful gifts. Their abundance was always on display. Though the exchange of gifts is partly a personal exchange, the nature of the gifts can often symbolize the country's power and stance.
Even if it was a sham, the Empire's gift couldn't be inferior to its counterpart's.
It was all for show—a way to save face. In other words, we needed to maintain the outward appearance of a superpower.
I know how silly it may seem, but nations were used to such exercises,
and as a result, it was expected that I come up with a proper gift. It didn't help that I wasn't a diplomat by trade. Thinking about what gift I should bring next always gave me a headache.
My counterpart, Colonel Calandro, on the other hand…was born and raised in the wealthy center of Ildoa. The grandiose small gestures he would prepare made my job particularly challenging. Nevertheless, I needed a gift suitable for the monumental proposal I was about to make.
This all may sound like one big joke, but let me assure you, it tore away at me. It wasn't an issue with the budget. The General Staff was prepared to spend as much as it needed on the peace negotiations. The problem was that there was no longer a physical gift to purchase. I couldn't just make a trip to the black market and spend public funds there. I needed to make a proper purchase, which…well, wasn't easy, to say the least.
I was so miserable that I'll confess: I essentially had to steal my gift. You may know of the high society that once existed in the old Empire's royal palace. The parties and events these people used to hold were beyond extravagant. The Foreign Office and palace would host the most incredible banquets. They made sure no expense was spared when it came to ensuring their guests had a good time in the name of creating trust. I feel those ideals are still fundamentally true, even today. When a diplomat is working hard to cultivate a friendship with a foreign nation, this is something that should be encouraged. It is much cheaper to fill diplomats with drinks than it is to fight a war, after all. As a soldier, I can assure you that diplomatic offensives are far more cost-effective than total war.
Anyway, let's get back to my nation's high society. Wine was a must when it came to these gorgeous parties; both the palace and Foreign Office had wine cellars. A little investigation was all it took to find out that the palace still had a stock of wine.
So, what do you think a staff officer would do in this situation? I feel it should be obvious enough. I'll come clean; I used my authority as a staff officer to plunder the imperial palace. A power move of sorts.
Although, it's not as if bringing a gift made my visit welcome. For you see, Ildoa was a neutral state. From the perspective of other countries, having an Imperial staffer like myself saunter around their city in broad daylight could only mean trouble. So whenever I visited, they were always quick to whisk me off the train.
The Ildoan officials were waiting for me at the station to both act as guides and keep an eye on me. A group of some of their tougher-looking soldiers would show up in uniform to bring me to my hotel, where they would keep me. They were, of course, as courteous as could be throughout the entire ordeal.
Thanks to their persistent effort, I made little to no contact with the outside world while I was there. I recall knowing the face of the staff member who would always check me into my hotel. I'm reasonably sure they were an intelligence operative for the Royal Ildoan Army.
They were also insistent about having me use their room service. It's not as if I was particularly interested in mingling with the other hotel guests in the dining hall…but it was exceedingly easy to tell how much they didn't want me to.
All this being said, I could've easily ignored their desires. I was an Imperial citizen, and Ildoa was our ally. Though they were neutral, there was no law forbidding a citizen of an allied nation from walking through the city streets. But I was compelled to comply. I needed them to cooperate with me, and acting up wasn't going to help.
I should also mention that—perhaps in an effort to keep me entertained in my hotel room and away from public eyes—Colonel Calandro was always very quick to visit me.
That day was no exception.
I had checked into my hotel just past midday, and it was just as I was about to place my bag down after reaching my room when the Ildoan security told me that Colonel Calandro was here to see me. Soon after, I heard my old friend's firm knock. The Ildoan soldier peeked his gruff face through the door, and I can still remember the weight of the first words that left his lips.
"Let me tell you, Igor Gassman is shaking in his boots. He's afraid of more trouble."
Although this sounded like a friendly jest, it was very evident he said it to keep me in check. Sadly, I could only brush off the remark and approach him for a handshake.
The two of us smiled as we exchanged a firm shake.
"My apologies to General Gassman, but…I'm hoping we'll be able to work closely together from here on out."
I think he was a bit surprised by my quip, but evidently, I had a knack for
these kinds of exchanges. I always wanted to solve issues without creating new problems. I once had an instructor place on my evaluation that I was of an average demeanor, though I'm not sure if that was a good or bad thing for a staff officer.
Whichever the case may be, I managed to catch the Ildoan soldier off guard.
"I'm surprised. You almost sound like a diplomat."
There it was—praise. Diplomacy is all about verbal tactics. You want to praise someone while also taking them by surprise.
"But…you're a soldier. And a staff officer at that. I'm sure you must be somewhat upset about getting involved with diplomatic affairs."
I could hardly believe it myself, considering my past. I nodded in embarrassment, recalling once boasting that soldiers were soldiers and not diplomats to the very man before me.
"I'm still a soldier, Colonel Calandro." "Of course."
"But alas, my country needs me here."
We finished exchanging what I guess you could call our salutations. Or, more aptly, an exchange of irony meant to keep each other in check. It all seemed so roundabout to me, and it seemed like I wasn't the only one who felt that way. Colonel Calandro was also a soldier, and one who preferred speaking plainly at that.
That was why he jumped right into that day's topic: "…I hear you come with an important matter."
I had alerted the Ildoan military stationed in the Empire beforehand that I would be visiting with a critical proposal. We General Staff officers have a penchant for doing things by the book, for better or worse. It's always ideal to progress plans on the rails that have been laid out for them.
The main issue is whether or not the rails follow the same track as the plan.
"Let's be frank. What are the terms you've prepared?"
Colonel Calandro's expression was dreadfully serious as he asked this, which is why I assumed the odds were in my favor. With utmost confidence…I shared the terms I'd squeezed out of the Imperial Army and General Staff as if I were slamming a series of trump cards onto the table.
"There are three key points: no reparations, no annexation, and the self-
determination of peoples."
This was the limit of what the Empire could accept. In fact, it heavily tested those limits. These terms were one whole step beyond what most would consider fair within the Empire. Many of my peers in the General Staff Office considered the proposal to be dangerously pacifist. It would've caused mayhem throughout the Empire if these terms had leaked before the final plan was put together. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my voice from wavering.
I almost felt like my work there was done as soon as I finished saying the sentence. It felt oddly refreshing. And my Ildoan counterpart's expression seemed…pretty good from where I was standing.
At that moment, I had a bit of hope.
"That's a…mighty big proposal coming from the Empire in its current state. But…I'm sorry, you're telling me this is the tentative plan for your negotiations?"
There was a stark color of surprise in Colonel Calandro's expression. I thought this was a good sign. I had interpreted this as him understanding the Empire's earnestness and willingness to make concessions.
"…I believe it should be more than enough for your country to mediate peace across the continent."
It was a proposal to end the war. Something everyone at the time dreamed of, and it could finally come true. This was the way to make it possible. I truly believed that the end of the war was in arm's reach for the Empire.
I was surprised to see a spark of confusion in the colonel's eyes.
"With just this…? I'm not so sure about that. To start off with, do you really think reconciliation will be possible without reparations?"
"The Empire is willing to accept it. We'll pledge never to request compensation."
"Forgive me, but I might have heard incorrectly. I didn't think my Imperial was this rusty…but did you just say the Empire is willing to accept these terms…?"
In fluent Imperial, a shocked Colonel Calandro suddenly questioned this detail. I remember feeling like this response must've meant that the terms I prepared were shockingly good. I could see it in his eyes…the raw emotion in his gaze. He was absolutely in awe by what I was saying. I thought to myself, He probably never saw this coming, not in a million years.
I knew I needed to capitalize on the moment as I gave him the firmest of nods. It was our chance to pave a path to peace. I won't lie: In that moment, I had a strong, fleeting hope that this would work out.
"That is correct. We're ready to accept this across the board. We won't demand reparations or annex any of the land we've occupied. We'll leave it to the people to decide which nation they want to join with a vote."
This was an important point. It was an obvious mistake the Empire often made. Our diplomacy up until that point sought to push for the greatest benefit we could take for ourselves. What we needed to do this time was decide on a bare minimum and make sure that we got it.
This was why I thought the confused look on Colonel Calandro's face affirmed my belief that these negotiations would bear fruit.
"I-I'm sorry. Colonel Lergen. Let me ask this one more time. Allow me to be overly clear with my question so as to avoid any misunderstanding."
"Of course."
"Perfect," he said before explaining his question.
"The reparations you're proposing are not a rejection of the Empire's willingness to pay reparations, but an assertion that the Empire will not pay them?"
Though it was an informal meeting…I had laid out the absolute best terms with which the Imperial Army was willing to let us bargain. But for whatever reason, Colonel Calandro wasn't capable of understanding this.
What was going on?
"That's right… Wait, why are you asking something like that?" "So your country has no intentions of paying reparations?"
He asked me this with a troubled look, and I couldn't process it. I think I probably just stared blankly at him. What he had just asked was beyond my realm of comprehension. The moment the meaning of his words eventually sank in, I stared right at him and finally spoke in disbelief.
"Us? Pay reparations?"
"…Colonel Lergen. I need to ask if you're being serious with me here."
"I would never joke about something as important as this. As an Imperial citizen who prays only for peace, I believe I have come up with the best plan we can offer."
We gave each other a good look, and both of us noticed the confusion in the other's eyes.
Something was very wrong.
I wanted to shout at him how ludicrous it was to even entertain the mere notion of the Empire paying reparations. In fact, we were fully in our rights to demand them. The Entente Alliance and François Republic had started the war. The Empire was merely defending itself. We had only been pursuing victory in a defensive war.
Ildoa, however, didn't see it the same way as the Empire.
"You can't be serious. You want to end the war by demanding exemption from compensating the other nations?"
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"What's not to understand?" I exclaimed with an unintended overzealousness. "We're saying that we won't charge them! Do you have any idea how much of a compromise this is? And yet it isn't enough?"
"…Yes. And what's this about forgoing annexation?"
"We're going to forfeit our right to the territories we've acquired. We intend to show the Reich has no desire to conquer new land!"
It was a simple concept. Definitely not something that could be misconstrued. Or so I thought. This was why I started to feel frustrated about how much we seemed to be talking past each other.
"So…you're going to abandon the contested territories? And not give up any of your own?"
"If there is a need, we can have the people decide! But that is only for the territories we acquired from the war!"
I should probably admit here that I was confused and scared in that moment. I tried raising my voice, but I'm sure my tone lacked any power or impact. We were talking past each other. And on topics that were the crux of the negotiations, no less.
"…Excuse me, but are you saying this after what happened in Arene? Do you know how many anti-Imperial separatists are still there today?"
"It isn't as if we did anything illegal there."
"And for the so-called self-determination of peoples, by this do you mean you want the people who live in the territories to decide which nation they want to be a part of?"
"That is correct. Is there something wrong with that?"
I remember thinking this as we exchanged those words: There was nobody in the Empire who could've predicted a conversation like this would ever happen. The fact was, I personally never foresaw this coming. I figured the Ildoans would either be happy to help end the war or betray us for their own gain—one of the two. Anything beyond that was beyond my and the Empire's wildest imaginations. Unlike what I'd planned for, the Ildoan colonel reacted with confusion.
Colonel Calandro extended a hand to a pitcher on his desk and, with a heavy sigh, poured himself a glass of water. After a bit of rehydration, he then reached for a cigar before stopping himself.
"Colonel Lergen, let's tone the formality down a notch and really talk with each other here. We're both soldiers. I think we can afford to be a bit
more candid."
As he asked me to be franker with him, he held out a pack of military cigarettes. I remember it being the official brand of cigarettes used by the Ildoan Army. I took one out of the box and wedged it between my lips. We then both took out our lighters and lit our cigarettes. The two of us, both utterly exhausted, took a smoke break together.
A smell filled the room—not the elegant fragrance you'd expect in a diplomatic space. As I filled my lungs with the fragrance that I was all too painfully familiar with, Colonel Calandro took on an even more severe gaze as he spoke to me.
"I want to talk to you as a fellow soldier. Not as a diplomat." "But of course. Let's clear the air."
Precisely. Colonel Calandro nodded with his cigarette in his mouth.
"I feel like there is a gap in our understanding of the situation. I'm sorry to say this so many times, but if this is all some sort of cruel joke you are trying to make, I'd really prefer you'd be more direct with me."
What do you say? he asked with inquisitive eyes. As a staff officer, this request was deeply confusing.
"Both personally and as a soldier, I believe I'm speaking with you in as simple terms as possible."
I was nothing but sincere with him. There were no lines to read between; it was all laid out on the table—as clear as day. There was nothing about the proposal that could possibly be cause for confusion. The Empire wanted peace, and the General Staff of the Imperial Army wanted to dispel any notion to the contrary.
"We are seriously proposing that there should be no reparations paid and no annexation of territories, and that the populations in contested areas should be given the right to self-determination. I hope you can see the Empire's sincerity in our proposal."
"So this is a proposal that outlines the extent to which the Empire is willing to concede."
I nodded. It was hard to get these terms even with the General Staff. "Exactly. We won't ask for reparations. Nor will we occupy our
territories. What's more, we'll leave the determination of our colonies to their people. We're willing and prepared to do all of this."
It wasn't a joke or some sort of bargaining ploy. The Empire was willing
to concede far more than it should, considering how much of a fight we had put up at the time. This…accurately reflected the sentiment of our people.
"So that's how you all see it."
The exhaustion in Colonel Calandro's face reached new heights as he lamented to himself. He then peered up to the ceiling as if the words he was searching for were hidden up there. It was a crude gesture, considering how elegant he always was. But I will never be as shocked as when I heard what he said next.
"The nations of the world will view this proposal as an insult." I responded immediately.
"In what way?"
"You're not going to pay for damages or give up any land and to top it all off, this will spark new problems in the contested regions. From the perspective of your enemies, your offer reads like you're making a mockery of them. I'm sorry, Colonel Lergen, but did you really not predict this outcome…?"
I couldn't believe my ears. In fact, it was even worse than not believing.
My brain couldn't process his assertion.
"My apologies, Colonel Lergen. I can tell by the look on your face that you haven't even considered the idea."
"I…" was all I could eke out before going silent and waiting for him to point out the cruel truth.
"For the Empire, this asking for peace may be humiliating…but from an outsider's perspective, your thinking is beyond arrogant. There's a serious difference between how your country operates and the rest of the world."
In an attempt to keep my expression from stiffening too much, I adjusted my glasses. As I did so, I came up with a theory that we were in fact living in two different worlds.
"But these are our principles…?"
The now-evident misunderstanding wasn't something any Imperial citizen could digest. Totally opposed perspectives were colliding, producing friction. Our worlds were perceived through different lenses. The paradigms under which we operated weren't even in the same dimension.
The Empire thought of itself as the victim. The rest of the world, however, saw itself in the same light. From the Empire's perspective, this was wholly contradictory. They were the ones who started this war. It was the Entente
Alliance, the François Republic, and the Commonwealth. I resented them.
Thus, I shouted back my retort.
"But, Colonel Calandro. You know as well as I do that the Empire did nothing more than defend itself in a war we never started."
This was how the Empire understood the war. My rage wasn't met with the same opinion. The Ildoan gave a deep nod before showing a wry smile as he took up his second cigar. His gestures showed that, from a diplomatic standpoint, although he understood my plea, he didn't agree.
"If you want to talk about what you believe is right, why not take a trip to the nearest university and discuss it with a professor?"
"…I see…"
His metaphor was painfully clear. In an instant, I realized the discussion on what was right and fair held no water when it came to negotiations.
I remember what I asked next. Tormented by the realization that my efforts were futile, I posed a question to the colonel.
"How would you resolve a fight between children?"
What was the price the Empire would have to pay for peace? I asked him this, and Colonel Calandro wearily took the role of substitute teacher to kindly teach me. Thinking back on it, I'm sure it was awkward for him…but I was in no place to worry about the details.
I was…desperate. I needed to find a way out of this war for the Empire. And I didn't want to throw away the idea of reconciliation. With these thoughts in my head, I waited earnestly as I implored Colonel Calandro for an answer. But, unfortunately for me, my counterpart was an honest man.
I can still remember what he said, even to this day.
"If we're going to be straight with each other, the Empire needs to give up on victory on both the diplomatic and war fronts for it to be a fair trade. Your enemies will need an abundantly just reason if they are going to throw down their weapons."
Fair and just.
Counselor Conrad referred to these two concepts as the cardinal rules of diplomacy. Never before had raw logic felt so miserable. I felt dizzy, which made me bring my hands to my head as I forced myself to listen to his explanation. It almost sounded like a cruel joke.
"The Empire is going to have to compensate its enemies. It's hard for me to say this…but I believe some land will have to be given up as well."
"Do you mean an exchange of land and international demilitarization?" "…It will be a unilateral exchange. I believe only the Empire will be
required to make these concessions."
I asked the question as a probing shot, but was met with overwhelming return fire. There was no room for compromise at this point.
"You're saying we'll have to not only pay reparations but give our enemies land even though we didn't lose the war? Does that not stray a bit from the concept of a fair trade? Is this what you consider fair in the Kingdom of Ildoa?"
"Of course, as your ally, we'll do everything in our power to negotiate better terms for the Empire."
He flashed me a smile.
Right, that was the instant I'd mostly given up.
I knew it was an empty promise. Though, I suppose we were the ones who brought an empty offer of no value. I realized there was no hidden key in the Empire's coffers that could open the door to peace.
It made me shake. I was disgusted by it all. "I'm sorry… Give me a moment to think."
I said this before allowing myself to pour a glass of water this time, which I promptly drained completely. I was at my wit's end. It was almost strange how thirsty I was.
I was the type of soldier who used to hold diplomats in contempt for failing to do their jobs. I understand now that I was terribly mistaken. I imagine the majority of them were also patriots who dutifully did their best despite knowing their efforts would never bear fruit.
They were the same as us.
All that work we'd put into this, and there was no guarantee we would like the results. To avoid collapse, we sought tactical victory after tactical victory, which amounted to nothing more than delaying the strategic defeat that awaited us.
For most people who found themselves on the battlefield, this meant losing their lives. The youth shouldered the future of the fatherland. They were the only hope for any light to shine on our nation. Despite everything at stake, so much depended on us maintaining the status quo.
It was then I decided to place my bet on a single possibility. I figured that as we were all soldiers, surely we shared the same perspective.
"…Is it impossible for two warring countries to unite, even in the name of peace?"
I was a novice diplomat, and this was my plea to meet halfway with my enemies.
I could never say such a thing now. As sad as it may be, such sentiment holds no value in the world of ruthless international geopolitics. It's an idea only the wildest of dreamers who are out of touch with reality would entertain.
And…my Ildoan friend, who was far more adept in politics than I was, responded to my question with sympathetic eyes.
"Colonel Lergen, you're an honest soldier. So…allow me to share my personal opinion with you."
"Your opinion means a lot to me."
His tone, eyes, and, most of all, sincerity—I could tell he was speaking from the heart. He wanted to be humane without overstepping an professional boundary.
Which was why I knew…what he said next would destroy any last hope I had in my search for peace.
"Understand that the Empire will need to make much more painful concessions…if they want these negotiations ever to happen. Your enemies are stubborn."
"You say that like the Empire will be the only one to make any concessions."
"No, not quite," the colonel said. I wonder if he was smiling out of kindness.
My sincere counterpart, seeing that he failed to convey his point in polite terms, was much more direct.
"They want to bring an end to the Empire. That is their honest wish." I remember the anger that filled me.
"…So not only are the greatest concessions we can bear an insult to them, but you think they want nothing more than for us to die on our knees, begging for our lives?"
Colonel Calandro immediately shook his head as if I were mistaken. "I don't know if they'll take it that far. There's no need to be hasty."
I remember him trying to calm me down. But how could he be so calm?
How could he say something so shocking so nonchalantly?!
"And for all intents and purposes, you'll treat the Empire as the loser of the war?"
There was only one answer to this question. Colonel Calandro feigned a level of reluctance. Though he couldn't outright reject the notion, it was all too clear, even to me.
"Ildoa is nothing more than a mediator. All I can say is…we can't mediate for the Empire if they aren't willing to accept the necessary concessions."
Everything began to come together in my mind. As each puzzle piece fell into place, a dramatic landscape made itself more and more apparent. And then I saw it. The puzzle was of a war we could not win. We weren't even fighting the war the right way.
The Empire didn't even realize this until a soldier met with a mediator. I know you could hardly call diplomacy a victory, but I still saw myself as an honorable warrior for the Empire.
The idea of defeat was confusing to me. In fact, I can't be sure I even accepted it when it first dawned on me. And our esteemed opponents had absolutely no intention of letting the Empire get away with any semblance of honor in this defeat. That was where their minds were while we were still dreaming of a way to end this. Was it not funny?
I was as arrogant an Imperial officer as they came. I was so obsessed… with abhorring anything dishonorable and carrying out my duty that I lost sight of reality. And oh, how painful reuniting with reality indeed was. In comparison, facing the miserable destiny of the fatherland almost seemed insignificant, or so I thought to myself as my vision blurred.
The next thing I knew, I was crossing the border on my way home via the international railway. A big thud of the train was what brought me out of my stupor. To me, the rattling of the train sounded more like the cracking of my nation's crumbling foundation. I couldn't bring myself to deny this, or anything I'd been told that day, which made for a lonely ride.
Thinking back on it, being able to enjoy the wide variety of food available on the international railroad was a privilege in its own right, but…I couldn't stomach anything.
Looking out the window at the scenery of the fatherland was like staring into a hopeless abyss. As soon as I returned to the Empire, the conspicuous lack of lights cut into me like daggers. We were in the middle of a brownout due to electricity shortages.
The Empire used to be a bright fortress, glimmering with endless light. By the time I got off the train, I had accepted my failure.
I only question what I would've done next in the absence of my job—my duty. I'm fairly sure I would've found the nearest gun and bit down on the barrel.
But perhaps I was fortunate, in a way, to be wired like a staff officer. My internalized discipline drilled into me through years of intense work would kick in, and I would always find myself back at the General Staff Office. I know that makes it sound like my body moved on its own, but that is precisely how it was.
There are records of me giving my report. One of the other officers would later tell me that I looked like one of those windup dolls as I aimlessly walked through the halls of the General Staff Office, so I'm sure it's true that I handed in a report.
I just can't remember. The report said something to the effect of
Diplomacy is futile.
Even now, I still cannot recall anything significant about the meeting where I said this. A friend once told me that our brains actively forget our most painful memories. Maybe I had put a stopper on my brain. All I know now is that day was a tipping point for me. I gave up all hope for the Empire finding peace through Ildoa.
The Empire had dreamed of ending the war as the victor.
I'm sure the readers today won't be able to understand or sympathize with this outlook. I felt the same way when I reread my records long after the war was over.
We were so greedy. And so naive.
It was why we couldn't hope for anything more back then.
I rejected it back in Ildoa, and as a result…I sowed the seeds that would grow into my notorious reputation throughout the country. Later, I would reluctantly accept orders to participate in a certain military campaign—the spearhead thrust into Ildoa.
I would go from negotiator to invader.
Though, there is one thing I would like to clear up. I never spied on Ildoa while visiting them as a diplomatic envoy. I never negotiated peace in Ildoa with the intention of invading them. I swear on my honor that my only mission was to find a way out of the war for the Empire.
Though I knew conflict with Ildoa was in the cards, I wanted to do everything possible to avoid my nation's collapse up until the very end. I poured everything I had into my work. But sadly, it was all for naught.
With that being said…I accept that I was wrong—I have to. My only desire is to be sincere.
I was sure that there was another plan outside of diplomacy. I had seen enough evidence to know there was a plan for an offensive.
Though, I should probably rephrase this if I wish to remain honest. It's more like I knew that there could be an attack. I know that is a strange way to put it, but what I'm trying to say is that if my efforts failed, a part of me knew that something else would be set into motion.
Nobody said it out loud, but there was a feeling in the air. To make a long story short, there were signs I saw that gave me everything I needed to paint the entire picture.
Does this sound like I'm bragging? It wasn't anything impressive, trust me. I merely caught a glimpse at a coworker's papers I wasn't supposed to see. I had friends in the right places, allowing me to pick up on the scent. I believe anyone would've been able to figure it out if they were in my position. Of course, it goes without saying that the General Staff was incredibly strict with top-secret information at the time.
I'm sure the vast majority of my coworkers never dreamed the Empire would attack Ildoa. In fact, even the peace talks I conducted with them were a secret. This is why these efforts were less of a General Staff initiative…and more of a series of small plays made by people like General Rudersdorf, General Zettour, and me.
I think it would be beneficial for future generations if I left a description of our relationship at the time. This may get a bit off-topic, but please forgive me.
First, let's start with my rank.
As I hinted at while describing my efforts to find peace through Ildoa, I was in a bit of a strange position within the General Staff Office.
Officially, I was a senior officer for the Operations Department of the General Staff. As you may have inferred from my assignment to handle peace negotiations, I guess you could've called me a jack-of-all-trades of sorts.
I had access to top-secret information pertaining to not only the war, but all sorts of affairs that passed through the General Staff Office. I even had
limited authority over Lieutenant Colonel Uger, who worked on maintaining the railway schedule and overseeing the army's mobilization. Though this authority was decorative in nature, it was a violation for even the Chief of the General Staff to give direct orders to my subordinates. Thinking back on it, the Empire's General Staff Office had morphed into something it had never originally intended to be.
The change, though, was necessary at the time. And urgently, at that.
It wasn't possible for us to pick up on anything out of the ordinary when we were too busy dealing with our impossible workloads. Though…I can't deny that we may have kept ourselves busy partially to escape from our reality.
Rather than be proud of my authority, I was more concerned with the condition of my stomach as I bore the never-ending stress and anxiety that my work gave me. Even now, whenever I get a stomachache, I still find myself recalling the bitter taste of K-Brot. Setting aside the pros and cons of the institutional blindfold than kept us naive, I can give you a simple explanation as to why our work environment wasn't sustainable: We would've died from being overworked. Even staff officers who had survived the harshest of battlefields would eventually meet with an honorable death under the crushing workload in the rear.
It all started with Deputy Director of the General Staff Zettour, who at the time oversaw what I call rear operations—managing provisions, logistics, the railway, and the like. He drew the ire of the committee of the Imperial Supreme High Command. (At the time, the Deputy Director was also in charge of running the war.)
His unique ability to observe and compare the conditions on the front lines and back home was likely made possible by his position. But regardless of his position, the (at the time) general had the incredible insight to make a case for the Empire's dismal prospects for victory.
Just as history suggests, anyone with the title "the Great" added to their name tends to know the way.
Still, we also need to remember the story about Cassandra of Troy.
She was never praised for the true prophecies she shared with her people. Sadly, the inclination to shoot the messenger is universal. Man's desire to cover their ears at the mention of bad news is often a simple denial of reality. In this way, General Zettour was shunned for sharing an undesirable truth
with the Empire.
As a result, he was sent to "inspect" the eastern front, which was essentially his dismissal. Many of my readers will know that this was when the general would later reemerge as a strategist. But at the time, he was the deputy director of the General Staff. Essentially, he was nothing more than a vital cog in the machine, but his very importance was what crushed the surrounding cogs.
But I digress. To get back on topic, at some point my subordinate Lieutenant Colonel Uger and I accidentally stumbled upon a planned offensive on Ildoa.
I've had people ask me why I didn't stop the attack. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible.
Lieutenant Colonel Uger and I had been sharing information in secret, and he approached me when the gears had already been set into motion. He came to my office that day by setting up an urgent meeting under a different name with a look of despair marring his face.
"Colonel, I've done everything I could to delay this, but we don't have much more time. In fact, we're moments away from deploying."
Deploying? To Ildoa? We were already surrounded on four different fronts, and we were going to add another? I think most sane soldiers would throw down their weapons right then and there.
And yet, the Imperial Army General Staff—the holy temple of military logic—was willing to go against the principles of war to seize the initiative. I bet our ancestors were rolling in their graves.
Lieutenant Colonel Uger sat with me as we quietly smoked our cigars, looking at the calendar. Considering the time of year and the weather, we knew we didn't have much time.
"How are the reconciliations coming…?" "We can't agree on fair terms."
"Fair terms…?"
Lieutenant Colonel Uger looked puzzled, so I told him the truth. "They want us to surrender."
"Pardon me, but…isn't that what we are trying to do?"
Theoretically, yes. Unfortunately, this was the same question I had when I spoke with Colonel Calandro.
"Isn't that why you brought your proposal with all those concessions?"
I want you to try and imagine what I thought when I heard Lieutenant Colonel Uger ask me this. I didn't know if I should laugh and agree with him, or shake my head and cry. All I could do was chuckle bitterly to myself. I wanted to apologize to Lieutenant Colonel Uger, whose expression darkened as he watched me in confusion.
Though I hesitated about whether or not I should tell him the truth, the remnants of my long-broken conscience told me it was the right thing to do. Why? Because Lieutenant Colonel Uger was a person, too. He deserved to know. Something told me that he was different. He wasn't the same as me. I'm sure there was a vast gulf between an officer who retained his humanity and a General Staff officer who had become a cog in the war machine. Nevertheless, my duty dictated that I should tell him the truth.
"Colonel, before I give you the unfortunate news…I'd like for you to take a seat. I need you to relax and settle in."
I was trying to prep him for the bad news. Lieutenant Colonel Uger picked up on this, and followed my request by lowering himself into his chair before taking a deep breath. I then found the best cigars I could, and we smoked them before I shared the results of my meeting in Ildoa with my respectable friend Colonel Calandro.
I did my best to keep my emotions under control as I spoke.
"Colonel Uger, what we think are concessions…apparently come off as demands to the enemy. They even see them as an insult."
"What…?"
"They want the Empire, the Reich, to fall. They have no intention of settling the war with negotiations. What they want is for us to simply get on our hands and knees, and beg for forgiveness."
I remember the utter shock on his face once he heard this, even today, all these years after the war. How could I forget? It was a beautifully dark blend of despair, resignation, and anger. I'm sure the face he made when he became aware of the Reich's fate was the same face I made during my meeting with Colonel Calandro.
The two of us, alone together, shared in that sense of overwhelming despair. I remember almost giving up on everything in that moment…
I don't know what to say about what happened from there. A lot remains to be said, but I can't find the words to explain it. There are also a great many things that should never be said again. I wonder how historians will judge us.
That's not something this old man will ever know. I'm just what's left of my many outstanding peers and comrades in arms.
I'm sure my day of judgment will come eventually.
From the unpublished memoirs of Lergen.