JANUARY 14, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, THE EAST
The focus of the Federation's strategic offensive Rising Dawn was to end their association with the Imperial Army once and for all. According to General Kutuz, the lead planner of the attack, "if the Imperials are expecting the usual party, they will instead party alone in their graves. We stand solemnly united."
In coordinating Rising Dawn, the Federation Army prized themselves on this being an organization-wide effort. The phrase Victory Through Unity— which was very compatible with Communism—was not only ideologically appealing, but it also closely reflected the practical necessity of unity for the Federation Army.
"General Zettour has a habit of meandering deviously, striking from an unexpected angle, or even on occasion, completely upsetting a situation through repeated tactical superiority. In that case, our only option is to overwhelm him with organizational strength that is too great to be overturned."
In other words, General Kutuz had concluded that if the Imperials were going to play cheap tricks, then the Federation should take the classic approach and simply crush them with a grand military force.
Before laughing and calling such an approach mundane, one should know that the essence lay in its thoroughness. According to General Kutuz, "the Federation chooses where to fight. The Federation chooses how to fight. The Federation chooses when to fight. We, and only we, decide."
The Federation Army carried everything off remarkably. Resolving to fully seize initiative for themselves on the battlefield and then, after setting
the table, faithfully following the party's wishes in regards to strategic objectives.
And the Communist Party, rightly, had only one order. To end the war in a single strike. Both the Federation and the party were aware of the cost extolled by this too-long war.
Hence why they brought Rising Dawn in hopes of resolution.
As atheists, they did not pray to God. But they were willing to do all that was humanly possible. Careful, repeated preparation was their catechism. One might laugh at a military that resorted to sheer numbers, but those who laughed would soon learn the justification for this instrument of violence.
In reality, God was always on the side with more battalions.
Upon seeing the full picture that was Rising Dawn, specialists uniformly expressed one opinion: It was tremendous. General Kutuz, too, expressed this point eloquently.
"If General Zettour is as intelligent as he is rumored to be," he muttered, shrugging like any ordinary graybeard and speaking in the level voice of a tired old man, a voice that revealed his simple nature, "then even he should be able to understand what is happening. And the moment he understands, he will only despair."
They were going to strike head-on with a massive army.
Generally Kutuz, and the others present, understood what that meant. The moment that Moskva Stavka of Supreme High Command gave the order to begin the attack, General Kutuz spoke softly. The large crowd of people around him nodded softly but emphatically.
"In the end, we will prove that the Empire is a problem that can be solved through blood and steel."
It was a small murmur that reverberated like a roar on the world.
The attack commenced with a battery of heavy artillery, followed by numerous rockets. So it begun: a full-depth preemptive attack against the Empire.
It was artillery that were the gods, artillery that were the true lords and masters. And properly, artillery that would turn the world on its head.
Artillery cleaned up, and infantry trampled through. So long as these basics were established, there was not a defensive line on Earth that could not be broken. This was war's unsparing lesson. The ways of the lord are simple.
And Operation Rising Dawn was faithful to simplicity. A model elevated to the point of sublimity.
One.
Utilize air superiority to adjust the attack range of infantry, extending the range to include not just the first line of enemy defensive positions but second and third lines of resistance as well, completely bombarding all enemy facilities, installations, and infrastructure in the area with firepower.
Two.
Launch units with greater strength, mobility, and sustainability than infantry in several waves, extending offensive limits to completely cover enemy positions. In other words, carry out breakthroughs using mechanized units.
The Federation's model was slavishly dedicated to these two simple elements.
Was it an attempt to simply crush the enemy without a plan? Absolutely not.
An all-encompassing torrent of violence. A revelation of military knowledge thoroughly dedicated to the overall scheme. Full and total utilization of the cruel modern instruments of violence. The devil was in the details, and such an operation was truly the epitome of the military rationality available to warmongers.
General Kutuz and the Federation Communist Party, an organization of no particular military genius, were going to utilize what they had amassed to teach the world a lesson. To impose their will. To forge ahead and, with a vortex of firepower, tear apart the enemy's defenses, their troops, their reserve positions, their communication lines, any and every last method of opposition at their disposal. Tear them up fully by the roots.
Steel showed no mercy. Leaving no room for cheap tricks, they were going to blanket the enemy in shells across every inch of a massive 100 kilometer-long front, ruthlessly pulverizing the opposition in an artillery duel.
Naturally, throwing so much firepower at the wall required an exponential number of muzzles. Getting everything in place had been daunting, and just preparing in advance had been a kind of hell. But once in place, the hammer of god was theirs to bring to bear on the battlefield.
Before the gods of steel, man, who was but weak flesh, could only beg
for mercy.
A moment of crisis. And yet…
…or perhaps, because of this…
When facing crises, organizations tended to behave in adherence to their organizational culture. The Empire's eastern army was no exception. As soon as they heard the words Federation counterattack, they began to act reflexively. They needed to stick to what was tried-and-true—greet the enemy's attack at their strongpoints and wait for their striking task force to counter.
They didn't even need to wait to be ordered to do so from above. The judgment was made from shared understanding among those on the ground that such steps would see them through, and commanders at each level acted based on this assumption.
Previously, this had been correct. And so now should have been no different. A simple thing, but in this moment, the deep-seated illness that was the imperial battle doctrine began to show its fangs.
After all, the Imperial Army had thoroughly trained its officers, when under identical conditions, to make approximately identical decisions.
Even in the middle of total war, where low- and mid-level officers had a tendency to grow scarce, the army spared no efforts in maintaining this standard for at least superior officers.
They were all of one style of thinking—dedicated to enabling interior- line operations. If they were going to make enemies of everyone around them and still have some chance of winning, they needed to capitalize on interior lines, with officers behaving proactively and working in mutual cooperation without the control of High Command, so as not to miss even the slightest chance. Thus, the image of victory that had been drilled into these officers' heads since their academy days was one of delaying defense followed by decisive support from a main force.
You could take the boy out of the academy, but you couldn't take the academy out of the boy.
The coordinated instinct of each to hunker down separately and wait for a suitable counterattack was both fundamental and a curse. We cannot pull back. This was the major instinctive premise behind all their thinking.
Of course, tactical withdrawal to lure the enemy out was possible. That
was always an option. In fact, flexibly adjusting one's defense by exchanging place and time was considered basic. There was nothing strange to Imperial Army officers about the idea of buying time in exchange for position.
However, simply put, they had made a collective mistake.
The Empire, the Imperial Army, had raised its officers to make interior lines the axis of their strategy. But to them, the line they were to hold was not hundreds of kilometers in depth. As a result, while withdrawal could be freely chosen on the tactical dimension, the thought of considering it never even crossed their minds on the strategic dimension.
Their only thought was to identify and crush the main point of attack.
But during the Federation's Rising Dawn, everything was the main attack.
The Imperial officers didn't know that yet. Enduring fierce shelling in their own separate positions, the thinking of each unit, ignorant as they were, was simple and based on past experience.
The area under our control must be the enemy's main point of attack. That means we have to hold. While we hold firm in our strongpoint, friendly forces are likely mounting a counterattack.
They could not begin to imagine that the region next to them, and the next, all the regions, everywhere, were under fire.
After all, even in the far-flung trench fighting of the Rhine front, there was still a main axis of attack for Command to identify and thus prove its worth. They all made assumptions about what was happening based on what they knew. The heavy pummeling, meanwhile, was causing outages and confusion in communication, making it even more difficult to grasp the situation.
As a result, they all misunderstood what was happening.
"This point is that the army must solidify around and protect the strongpoint. If we just stand our ground, reinforcements will come, and the battle will be won!"
Imperial officers adhered to their own slavish style of thinking. It was what they had to rely on in times of crisis. And doing so was what had carried them thus far.
For those officers who had experienced victory after victory under General Zettour, they were even confident. Each unit across the entire theater decided separately to stand firm and protect their own position until
either the enemy infantry, who were sure to come, were repelled or a reaction force mounted a counterattack.
In other words, they committed firmly to holding their position. They may have been surrounded, but there was no cause to worry. Friendly forces would come to clear a path.
In short, they believed they already knew what to expect from the front. Using their discretion on the ground, they all made the same choice. Their choice, to hold their ground, was brave. That none of them could even consider the fact that the whole front was under fire and that most of the field army was tied down, however, was a tragedy.
"The enemy! We're under fire from the enemy!" "Everyone, to your posts!" "What is this?! We're under concentrated fire! Is this the enemy's main force?!" "Emergency alert from area thirty-two. Enemy artillery units across spectrum…" "Emergency alert. Enemy artillery across full spectrum in area twenty-three…" "Emergency alert for command. Enemy artillery units across the spectrum in area nineteen are…" "Local command, this is Aerial Field Base Command 11. Enemy aerial forces are…"
On that day, at that time, the communications officers at Imperial Army Eastern Command were inundated by a veritable deluge of reports. Once the officer in charge, pale and looking shaken, informed Command of the emergency, that a fierce attack was taking place, Eastern Command quickly realized what was happening.
The enemy was carrying out a full-scale attack—make no mistake about
it.
However, Eastern Command had fallen into such chaos that even that
attack had to take a back seat for now. After all, the commander himself had gone out on reconnaissance, and no one could reach him now.
"Has General Laudon died in one of the explosions?!" "General Laudon, please be alright…!" "What? The staff officers under General Laudon are under attack by the Federation Army?!" "All these reports are contradictory! Check carefully! Has anyone got in touch with his adjutant?!" "There's no word!" "What were his guards doing?!" "Put the medic team on standby. We need to hurry and ascertain the situation…"
"Get me the latest reports from the ground. Quickly!"
"Shit, shit, shit," someone cursed amid the chaos. Despite the bedlam on the field, the chain of command itself was barely functioning.
Under these circumstances, any notion of immediately identifying the enemy's "main point of attack" and launching an organized response was a distant dream.
Nevertheless, the staff officers whom General Laudon had left in charge in his absence were doing their best to respond, scraping together reports and analyzing the information…but it was all just too much.
"What is happening?! It's like the whole front is receiving the brunt of the enemy's attack!!"
"Impossible," one senior staff officer shouted in confusion. Selection and concentration.
Choosing one point to focus on in order to break through a defensive line. That was all the Empire knew of offensive operations. For them, this was a world first. Who would have ever imagined? To press not a point, but a whole front.
This was not the individual techniques that the Empire so excelled at, but a systematic pursuit of decisive victory. It was the epitome of combat arts based in organizational strength.
The Federation's Rising Dawn offensive marked the world's first deep- battle operation.
"Reserve artillery positions are under attack?! Impossible! Those are kilometers away from the front…" "The…the 7th Artillery Corps has gone silent!" "Emergency! Emergency! Enemy partisans with railway guns are…" "Emergency alert from the 4th Panzer Division!" "We've lost communications with the 31st Infantry Division Command!" "The 143rd Cavalry Division Command is under attack from enemy artillery…"
While the comms officers were still glancing at one another, trying to imagine what was happening and awestruck at these terrible events unfolding, fierce Federation artillery were busy saturating tens of kilometers of range across a front that was over a hundred kilometers long.
And in the end.
"What?! An alert! Enemy air units are fast approaching!!" "Partisan alert! Command, this is urgent! This is the 15th Field Command Center with an urgent request! Reinforcements! We need reinforcements!" "S…
Second Light Armored Division Command is under attack!!"
Even positions far in the rear, reserves that were supposed to be safe, had come under attack. There was an overwhelming deluge of report after report. Reports of being harassed by artillery. Broken contact from the front lines. Extensive attacks on friendly air bases.
As a result, Eastern Command quickly realized the worst—that the enemy's attack had come too soon—and once they realized, they attempted to respond using their proscribed defensive plan.
In some ways, they acted correctly. Yes, it was a full-scale attack, and a full-scale attack required a defensive plan. The Imperial Army prided itself on having often surpassed the Federation Army's attacks.
Eastern Command were not fools.
After such concentrated shelling from artillery, it was obvious at a glance that the Federation Army was carrying out a large-scale attack. Meaning the enemy was going to advance with artillery support. Just like always.
Thus, their thinking, too, followed convention as always. To hold position, then counterattack.
It was a very reasonable response. Hence why no one within the Imperial Army had yet to realize that hunkering down in position according to their defensive plans was exactly what the Federation Army, and its strategists, wanted.
No one, that is, except Tanya von Degurechaff…
-x-X-x-
THE SAME DAY, THE EAST / SALAMANDER KAMPFGRUPPE COMMAND CENTER
Despite the low number of personnel, to better strengthen command and control, Salamander Kampfgruppe's command center is blessed with communications equipment that is on par with that of division command centers.
Never mind that we have been deployed to a crumbling old village due
to political and bureaucratic concerns, and that our command is currently lodged in an old and decrepit farmhouse. If we wish, we could exercise the same level of controls as a division. An antenna has already been affixed to the house's chimney, allowing for long-range communications.
In other words, we are in an excellent position to listen in. As Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff presses her ear to the radio, the reports she picks up are hopeless.
"And on top of everything else, it seems General Laudon is missing…," I mutter, furrowing my brow as I keep track of friendly transmissions I've managed to pick up.
The chatter, which seems to suggest their own command and control has become paralyzed during a full-scale enemy attack, is more than enough to warrant fear.
As a result, Tanya can only guess if it's panic at having their head cut off or sheer inertia, but those remaining in Eastern Command made the worst possible decision they could make.
"They're going to defend their positions…"
The direction they are setting is completely inappropriate. Tanya turns her eyes upward in recognition.
"Damn it," I mutter, thoroughly frustrated.
A wave. Like a torrent. Once it breaks, the Empire is expecting to be able to counterattack, but it is no more than the enemy's first wave. The moment the first wave recedes, after mustering their strength and digging in their heels, the Imperial Army will barely have time to enjoy victory before a new and massive wave of attack arrives. They will likely be helpless.
Stand firm? For how long? In a stronghold without reinforcements?
Tanya, who has the unfair advantage of knowing the following chapters of history, is the one person who sees where this is going and is afraid. Just as General Kutuz foretold.
How has this happened? I push down a rising sense of nausea and confront the current situation.
The critical nature of the situation is far too clear. Based on circumstantial evidence, there can be no mistake; the enemy has launched a full-scale attack. A front of a hundred kilometers cannot mean anything else, and I tremble at the thought of the amount of preemptive preparation it must have taken for the enemy to be ready for a winter attack.
Tanya chased the others in the command center away from the radio and is listening alone in fear.
"We failed to foresee this, and now we are fumbling the vital initial response…?"
Naturally, they had been expecting a full-scale counterattack at some point. Under Laudon, Eastern Command had been shaping up, hadn't they? However, the presumption was that the attack would come in spring at the earliest. And it was generally assumed that summer was the most likely. The Imperial Army had been trying to rebuild its defensive line in the east, believing that we still had several months.
Even General Zettour himself approved of that estimate. In other words, even the great Zettour misread the situation. Tanya buries her head in her hands.
"Bad, bad, this is bad…!"
We've guessed wrong, and the enemy has completely seized the initiative. That alone speaks volumes of how thoroughly the Federation Army has deceived us and concealed their intentions in the lead-up to this strategic surprise attack against us.
"This scale, this attack…"
It is fortunate that her subordinates are not near, as Tanya's voice sounds as if it is ready to break into tears. The enemy's frontal attack is…cause to expect the worst.
Tanya von Degurechaff knows. There is historical precedent. In Earth's history, which closely resembles the history of this world, the Red Army pulled off something very similar.
No one can deny that it was a massive historical feat. The Red Army's fearsome deep battle operations. A theory of continuous operation based on sustained advance. Deep and simultaneous attack, and incursion by highly mobile operational units.
"Ah! That's why! Of course they would do this now!" I suddenly blurt out after thinking things through.
It is reckless to attack in winter? What of the undercarriages? The spring mud season was not an option.
At the moment, the roads are probably still frozen solid. As long as one can withstand the bitter cold, mobility remains possible. And between the Federation Army and the Imperial Army, there is no need to ask which is
weaker to the cold.
Even the Federation Army likely suffers in this cold. But—but—but… this is the Federation motherland. The Federation people live with this cold. And besides, the lanes of communication have been restored, haven't they?! The mud season hasn't come yet. And thanks to the Empire's might, the back lines of communication are currently in the process of being repaired. Under the guise of successfully mopping up the partisans, the Imperial Army has been restoring the roads to functionality.
But of course, these roads were originally the Federation's lanes of communication. The enemy understands the geographic situation better than we do. If they are fully utilizing the partisan network, then these might just wind up being the enemy's roads of attack.
Speaking of which, the confused reports from earlier, suggesting that something has befallen General Laudon, makes me want to groan out loud. Was the general targeted?
"Did they intentionally incite us to rebuild back lines of communication, then decapitate the head of command at precisely this time…?"
If so, there is no room for debate. This is quite literally the beginning of the end. The entire front will be crushed by artillery. The reserves, even command, are targets of attack.
At that point, I suddenly realize that my own unit has not been attacked. "Maybe it is a good thing we were deployed so early in the new year
after all…"
Units like Tanya's that have only just been sent forward likely happened to slip under the enemy's radar. That would probably be why they haven't been attacked. Or to put it another way, the enemy probably has a good grasp on the locations of the majority of friendly forces that were already hunkering down for the winter, making it highly likely that these forces will be subject to thorough attack.
The units encamped throughout the region in anticipation of wintering in place are in the process of being trapped.
"And what's more, now—of all times—they've been ordered to defend their positions!"
Eastern Command is like an open book. Withstand, and once the enemy runs out of steam, ascertain the main force and counterattack.
Is this faith in the mobile defense operations that General Zettour has
pulled off so many times in the east? Has the memory of the stunning victory he pulled off in that same manner last summer been burnished into their minds? Either way, it is fickle overconfidence.
A defensive line such as this cannot stop the Federation's full-scale attack.
During the Cold War, it was widely acknowledged that a Soviet mechanized offensive could only be blunted by the full combined force of Europe plus the participation of US forces in Europe.
"And the Empire is supposed to stop it on its own, when they are just one country and already worn out, here on this eastern line full of holes…? Impossible, it's suicide."
So far, the Empire has repeatedly succeeded in repelling the Federation Army. Obviously, we are ahead in points. But not even General Zettour himself has ever faced a full-scale frontal assault from the Federation.
"Ha-ha-ha…ha-ha-ha-ha…ha-ha-ha…"
I laugh quietly. Of course, the imperials have gotten it wrong this whole time, thinking we stand a chance against the Federation.
While we were busy knocking down what little scraps of force the Federation Army dangled out there for us to see, we completely overlooked the fact that they were preparing.
"'Spring,' we said. 'The enemy is suffering from attrition,' we said. 'Hunker down for the winter'? Ha-ha-ha! Mistakes are one thing, but we really screwed the pooch this time!"
Wishful thinking. Incorrigible.
We really think we can wait out the enemy's attack across the entire front, then seize a chance for victory? Not a fucking chance. The first wave is going to leave our defensive line in tatters. The majority of our troops, hunkered down in defensive strongpoints on the front line, will be surrounded, and they will simply continue to be battered until the enemy's first echelon loses steam and the advance slows.
But even once the first wave stops, there will not be room for hope.
If there is only one wave, then the units in the strongpoints on the front line would then be able to block enemy lines of communication, but the Federation has likely learned that that is what the imperials do.
The enemy has probably prepared units to encircle these strongpoints. In
which case, there is almost certainly a second echelon waiting behind the enemy's first, hale and healthy and ready to punch forward.
There could even be enemy airborne forces ready to drop deep behind our lines.
If we attempt to withdraw and rebuild defensive lines while the main field army is pinned down, rescuing the army would likely be hopeless. However, if we just abandon the field army and try to rebuild defensive lines in the rear to protect whatever is left, the enemy waves will be far too strong when they come.
Can this be prevented? Where could defensive lines be built? More importantly, how would we even buy the time needed to do so? The answer to these questions is obvious.
"Any way you look at it, it's impossible…"
In the face of the enemy's second echelon, which is likely to bound through, the only possible future that comes to mind is one in which we are completely crushed. A steamroller is coming, one that will afford us no time to regroup.
They're going to smoosh us into pavement. I'm sure we'll be red enough for them then.
"Damn it…"
Forget about the second echelon—what about the first? Their artillery are raining shells down on us with about a hundred barrels per kilometer of front. Hunkering into position against an enemy like that will barely allow the main field army to even slow the first wave and reserve troops down, and in exchange, they would completely lose any semblance of mobility.
Even when General Zettour pulled such tactics off successfully, he lured the enemy, keeping room for mobility in mind, before finally counterattacking. Now that the enemy has seized the initiative, the possibility of maneuvering at our convenience is a pipe dream. Even if we were to realize our plight and retreat, how far could we get?
Let's imagine we boldly pull back our defensive line and construct a final line as a final resting place for withdrawing friendly forces. Even if we just barely manage to stop the enemy's first wave, I only imagine we would be completely crushed by the second wave, which has still been keeping warm that entire time.
The outcome will not change. The Imperial Army cannot stop them
head-on. If they try, they will be blown clean out of the water.
Our one hope is a wall of distance.
The only option for receiving the attack is with space. After all, for now, the Empire still has a buffer of occupied territory that it can afford to abandon.
"Now—it has to be now; the army has to be made to withdraw immediately."
A retreat.
If we are going to avoid being annihilated, we need to divert the enemy's power through a tactical withdrawal. And then to implement AirLand Battle to the best of our ability. Thoroughly sever the lines of communication and harass the back lines. Erase the enemy's power with repeated interdiction strikes.
That is our way out.
Everything thus far has followed logically, but beyond that, Tanya's mind freezes.
"But how…?"
Yes, how? When it comes to how, even Tanya must despair.
She's a Named officer who has completed staff office training and leads a Kampfgruppe under direct General Staff command, and a lieutenant colonel in possession of a Silver Wings Assault Badge. Yes, Tanya is very important. But she also has a major shortcoming.
She does not have command authority.
She could likely submit an opinion. By going through General Staff channels via Colonel Lergen, given enough time, she would probably be able to meddle in the entirety of Eastern Command. But…when it comes to authority to directly command the army, she has none.
Her discretionary powers only apply to the Kampfgruppe at best. For anything beyond that, she must first take her opinion to the higher-ups for approval and have them issue orders in her place.
For emergency situations in which that is too circuitous, she has been told she has nearly carte blanche to borrow Colonel Lergen's name. But…
"But…but this scale is just too large."
Colonel Lergen, of course, is one of the General Staff elite. Using his name, it would not be impossible to move Eastern Command. Add in Colonel Uger's assistance, and even a fairly rash move could be attempted.
However. I laugh.
Borrowing Lergen's name to hijack command and control may be the height of rashness, but it is far too little to effect something as over the top as inciting the entire army to retreat.
"It isn't enough!"
If she submits an opinion to Eastern Command now, would it accomplish anything in time? Posing questions to herself, Tanya quickly summarizes the situation.
"I…believe I have Eastern Command's trust to a degree as well."
Her accomplishments speak for themselves. And more importantly, the Salamander Kampfgruppe has General Zettour's backing.
With a senior chief of staff, knowing who the boss is would likely have a tremendous effect. She could likely expect more consideration than normal. If General Laudon was here and she could talk to him directly, it might be doable.
"But…whoever's been left in command in his absence will be in a state of confusion. Could they really be expected to scrap their existing plans at such a crucial juncture?"
The answer does not require thinking. It's impossible, an utter no-go. Such an insane step would be impossible on the advice of a single lieutenant colonel. And even if I could somehow forcibly persuade them, it would take too much time. It would not be much better than resorting to using Colonel Lergen's name.
Even the time it would take to persuade General Laudon and rely on his authority would be cutting it close. Every second now is a race against time.
Is the person whom General Laudon has left in charge in his absence capable of being decisive? It might even be better to act through General Zettour. But unfortunately, Zettour is far away in the capital. How long would it take to apply via organizational channels, for the bureaucratic machine to swiftly process the request, and for General Zettour to recognize the situation, investigate the proper orders, and issue them through appropriate channels, thus finally impacting Eastern Command?
And by that time, how much reserve strength and time would be left on the front to effect a withdrawal?
"Ahh… Ah! Fucking damn it!"
I suddenly want to take my anger out on the world. Is that reasonable?
Of course not. But what else am I supposed to do?
While Tanya goes through the process of submitting an opinion and getting the higher-ups to investigate a response, we'd be losing precious time that we can never get back.
"It wouldn't be fast enough. At this rate, no matter what I do, there won't be enough time."
The one path to avoid destruction is to act immediately. The entire army has to withdraw fully. No delay. No hesitation.
"But how?"
I know what needs to be done, but how am I supposed to do it? Tanya lacks the authority to mobilize the Imperial Army units in the east.
"Should I speak to those around us and urge those who are sensible to retreat? If they move in piecemeal fashion, however, the chances of an organized withdrawal would be doubtful…"
If one unit retreats and another one digs in, that would throw coordination out the window. Total chaos would become inevitable, which might even benefit the enemy instead. A foolish plan to sow the seeds of discord, causing the men to believe they might be abandoned by friendly forces, which could cause even more breakdowns in control.
Well then, what about trying to persuade Eastern Command directly without going through General Staff?
"What are the chances of success? Now, when they're in confusion over what has happened to General Laudon?"
And even if I could persuade them…
"…how long time would it cost? How long would it delay us?"
Even without General Zettour or General Laudon present, if there were at least someone clearly in charge present, there might have been hope of convincing them.
If there were someone of real responsibility to persuade, that person would be able to act on behalf of the organization without hesitation. But the time required to bring an organization to a decision, compared with a person, is exponential.
In normal situations, taking the time to persuade the people at large has its benefits, but in an emergency, such a thing is nonsense. It is far too circuitous.
"Damn it, if only I had command authority," I shout, gritting my teeth in
despair and cradling my head.
An organization is an organization. And as an organization, it has areas in which it excels and areas in which it falls short. And if that organization is an army, it has authority and chains of command. In short, for better or worse, it is bound by a system of control.
Even for the Imperial Army, which respects independent decision- making when taken out of tactical necessity, the official chain of command is extremely important. Procedural legitimacy is a fine thing, but when it seems those procedures will lead to death, one can only bemoan them.
Tanya does not have enough weight to move an entire organization. As long as she works through General Staff, she can have an influence on the east through her superiors.
Even the time going in circles is a waste. This is a crisis.
"Issuing an urgent warning to General Zettour would probably be the fastest in terms of official routes, but…"
Tanya can do little besides bitterly regret the situation she finds herself
in.
"…we should probably prepare for the worst. With a large-scale battle,
communications are sure to be a mess. And I'd rather avoid a game of telephone. Worst-case scenario, if confusion at General Staff is bad, there's a chance the message would not arrive anytime soon…"
Even if things do go well, I can see it would take too much time. Not to mention, the prospect of playing a game of telephone during this carnage is nerve-racking. Regardless of how correct and well-intentioned I attempt to be in submitting an opinion, there is no guarantee that it would reach the people above in an accurate and timely manner.
During times of chaos in particular, it is not unusual for even vitally important messages to go missing. This is one of an organization's weak points.
Even if appropriate information is sent up from the front lines, in an emergency, whether or not that information is appropriately processed depends on whether the backline machinery is in place at the time.
For someone such as Tanya, who respects logic, this seems utterly baffling, but her own experience that such things occur is too vivid for her to deny it. She does not understand it, but she at least accepts it.
At this, however, Tanya's thoughts have reached a dead end.
"Well, then what should I do?"
Follow the rules, then sit and watch the destruction? Watch as the old world is stained red?
"And what would happen to me then…?" Only death, sooner or later.
In that case, at the very least, instead of choosing death, could anyone blame her for choosing to struggle? Even with the slimmest hope of success?
Consider it an emergency evacuation.
After all, she is essentially drowning. Who could blame her for clutching at a board and taking just a slight deviation from the rules?
Upon further consideration, by saving myself, I might also save the Empire. What is there to hesitate about? What need is there to be bound by official means?
"Fine…so be it."
If necessity makes right, then is skirting procedural legitimacy not the one—nay, the only choice?
"Think, think, think…," I mutter to myself, trying to arrange my discordant thoughts into something useful.
"There is a way out. There has to be. In short, instead of going down with the ship, I need to get the army, the eastern army, to withdraw. So then…"
…I need to ignore the chain of command and move the army on my own. Yes, that makes sense.
It does, but wait. Take a step back. I need to move something I can't move. I don't have the authority to move it.
"If it's a problem of authority, then why not simply ignore authority?"
In other words, falsify orders. Why not falsify orders, cause the army to move, and then get ex post facto approval?
Ha-ha. I laugh cynically at my madness. Even after deviating that far, the chance of success would rise only slightly above zero. Still, logically, there is a chance.
More than zero, if done right.
This, however, is when I notice my first stumbling block.
"How am I supposed to deceive Eastern Command and get falsified orders past them? And what if General Laudon is unharmed? Doing this
would plunge our forces into chaos instead…"
At the on-site level, I might be able to work something out. With the battlefield in chaos, falsifying so-called orders—or stretching their interpretation, perhaps—could probably be cloaked in some degree of legitimacy.
Some degree.
But that's the issue. No matter what, I can only manage so far. It isn't as if Eastern Command has lost communications or military order itself is in disarray. Would it really be possible to get all units in the theater to retreat on virtue of falsified orders?
"It seems like a real long shot…"
Even confused, an army is an army. The idea that command would immediately begin a full retreat on the basis of a single falsified order is laughable.
"Maybe it is hopeless after all."
It's time for Tanya to get creative. Forget falsified orders. What if she storms Eastern Command instead, forcibly and physically "removes" everyone whose rank is below staff officer, and begins issuing orders in Eastern Command's place?
"Don't be ridiculous… That would be even more impossible."
Taking over to issue false orders would just be inviting friendly fire into the middle of what is already a crisis. And it would be impossible to justify it, based on intentions and results, after the fact.
As far as Tanya knows, even in the case of exceptions such as Bruce McCandless3, it's in a military's nature to be trigger-happy when it comes to court-martials. McCandless rescued his column from the crisis of an annihilated command and still nearly got court-martialed for it. If Tanya was to cause the annihilation herself, there would be no excuse.
If the order to withdraw is an absolutely necessary measure, General
Zettour would probably understand. "Eliminating" an entire command, however…
"Wait…"
Putting her thoughts in order has provided Tanya with a hint.
"If what is necessary is necessary, General Zettour will understand necessity. That is self-evident."
Zettour is a supreme pragmatist. He likely would not appreciate military order being disturbed, but if independent thinking is required, so long as I can keep my deviation within the limits of what can still be approved after the fact, he will likely forgive it.
"So then would he happily forgive the borrowing of his name to issue orders?"
A field officer falsely borrowing a general's name. Usually, this would result in death by firing squad, but if necessity calls for it, the General Staff might be expected to allow such ingenuity.
But of course, one cannot be sure.
However, if Zettour behaves as reasonably expected, the possibility is there.
"Okay. So then what should I do? How can I issue an order for withdrawal, one that people will believe, using General Zettour's name? How do I make it seem legitimate?"
Some sort of contrivance. As my brain is desperately scrambling for possibilities, I find myself dredging up the memory of a foolish conversation I once heard, something I dismissed as a joke.
It was on a day back when General Rudersdorf was still alive. But what was it about? Yes, that's right. I pull the memory up from the back of my mind.
Tanya is aware that several of General Zettour's plans that are related to defense in the east have been tossed into a safe. They're backup plans, little more than notes. What's important, however, is the fact that notes prepared by General Zettour himself have been stored in the eastern army's safe.
Including ones drafted on the assumption of a full retreat… In other words, premised, in a sense, on the same events as of today, though the necessary measures are only roughly sketched.
They're plans written in General Zettour's own hand.
Now if I can just get Eastern Command to believe that higher-ups have ordered them to follow such a plan. And just in case, I need to arrange it in a way that won't go beyond basic suspicion in the event that General Laudon turns out to be alive.
Yes, arrangements. Arrangements, what a joke. As my brain is trying to squeeze out some possibility, absolutely anything, I remember something General Zettour once said in jest.
"…I can prepare a position for you if you're up for the job. I could make you a senior staffer at the very least."
How did I reply that day? I must have refused. But Zettour was offering the position of inspector. Well, one could quibble it was offered at least.
"I have high hopes for you. I'm sure this is a point of pride for you?"
Tanya's boss said, but how did she reply?
Ah yes, that's right. The east, of all places. "Is there anything I can do for the eastern front outside of leaving it as well?"
I believe that was my response.
In which case, there is at least some room to argue that I was given the appropriate qualifications. And as long as there is a crack, it is enough to shove one's way through. This is the basics of getting your way in any organization.
"Ah…" I turn my head upward. "This is the path." Narrow as it is.
An outrageous move, using General Zettour's notes as leverage to forge his name and getting the army to withdraw on doubtful authority. It is a dodgy road; I can't help but sneer. But at least it is a way out.
However, I shake my head. "It's not enough. Not yet."
Even if General Zettour gives approval after the fact, that is a matter for the distant future. The issue now, in this moment, is how to issue an order with General's Zettour's authority.
"What about an advance loan? Leverage the margins on a future product…"
In other words, if I pay the debt back later…
"Of course, the problem is I don't have any means of doing so right now."
With a sigh, I realize this course of thinking is once again a dead end.
Armies take care to preserve the chain of command. Even if Tanya claims they are General Zettour's orders, there would be no reason for them not to confirm her claim. In other words, Tanya doesn't even have the authority to present falsified orders.
I may just have to admit that falsifying orders is a nonstarter. Even if I am to attempt an advance loan on General Zettour's good name, the Imperial Army's organizational controls are not so loose as to allow me to
present orders in his name simply because the Kampfgruppe is directly assigned to the General Staff.
"That's what we get for running a tight ship."
There are a variety of measures in place to properly authenticate orders and to see at a glance whether or not they are valid. Obviously, this makes sense, since we don't want the enemy army to be able to use fake calls or falsified orders to interfere with operations and sow confusion.
Even if she were to attempt to pass orders off as General Zettour's, if asked for proof, present-day Tanya would be at a complete loss. Hence, Tanya can only turn her eyes up to the sky instead and lament the current situation…
"Hmm?"
Something suddenly catches my attention. "Present-day Tanya? But…"
…what about at other times?
What about in the past? A light suddenly goes off in my head. Still white as a sheet, with a mixture of hope and despair, I dash from the room, my feet carrying me to the office where the safe containing the battalion's classified documents is kept.
Chasing away the guard in the room, I begin rifling through the safe's contents on my own. As soon as I find what I'm looking for among the documents, my face cracks into an almost-convulsive smile.
"It's here…" It's still here.
"The special cipher for General Zettour's escort unit." This is effectively General Zettour's private cipher.
If an encrypted message of this type were to arrive in General Zettour's name, even Tanya would find it hard to believe that anyone who is uninvolved would know the cipher. And they still have it on hand.
"Keys like this, for one-time use, are rarely updated…and our unit was only just recently officially assigned as escort forces in Ildoa."
In Ildoa, Tanya and the others often "interrupted" General Zettour's orders, due to Zettour's habit of taking the lead. At that time, we were given official communications authority under the assumption that we would be relaying messages between General Zettour and command. First Lieutenant Grantz's unit's authority, as General Zettour's direct escort force, was the
most recent.
Have the related ciphers been updated in the east? Like one-time pads, theoretically, the risk of them being deciphered is extremely low. After distributing these, would they really bother to change them without reason? When they haven't even collected them from us yet?
There is reason to believe that the ciphers are still valid.
Furthermore, while the cipher might be weak on its own…we can also use Colonel Lergen's name as "supplemental documentation." This is enough—the key to falsifying orders from the General Staff.
"Can I…? Should I?"
Falsifying orders from General Zettour, forcing the Imperial Army into a full withdrawal, and redirecting the enemy's attack into empty space. It is not impossible.
In other words…
"By issuing a strong, one-time encrypted message in General Zettour's name, and using Colonel Lergen's name as further backing, it can be done…"
My eyes widen.
"I can only manage it once, but I can move the entire army…!" And if things go well.
"Maybe, just maybe…"
If it all goes well, if everything goes perfect, the Imperial Army will escape from destruction at the hands of the Federation Army, escape from the jaws of ruin.
A wish? Yes. But that wish has a chance of becoming reality. I know the odds. But I'm willing to make that gamble. Because I know that this is a gamble worth taking.
In the back of my overheated brain, the possibility of escaping gruesome annihilation has become real. Like a beacon of light. With this shining beam of light in hand, I can at last confront the encroaching despair.
But following the logic, I stop there.
Can is one thing. But can and should is a separate argument.
Doing this would involve assuming a superior officer's name, falsifying written orders, deceiving Eastern Command, and arbitrarily repositioning the army. And at a time when the enemy is launching a full-scale attack?
"I'd be executed by firing squad without room for discussion."
Ask who you like, think what you may—there would be zero room for excuse after such an attack.
But it is doable.
It's insane. It goes against all common sense. But at least…of all the options currently open to Tanya…
"This is the only damn decent one."
As a company man, this is a forbidden step. Horrifying to contemplate for someone like me, with the values of an average, sensible citizen.
"Why?"
Why me? Why should I have to do something like this? I groan. "Falsify orders? Me?"
The only person who can do this now is me. If I mess it up, a firing squad will be waiting for me. But if I don't try, I will probably be killed by the enemy. But if I deceive the army, the army will probably literally kill me. To live, I must fight, but the results of doing so will be extremely perilous.
In the regular army, actions taken to disturb the chain of command are heavy crimes. Even if I handle everything perfectly, it is unlikely I will not be dealt with in some way.
"Am I really going to do this?"
I convinced myself once already. It is an emergency evacuation. But after exploring what it would really mean, there are so many deviations. As a good company man, I can't help but hesitate, worry, and feel conflicted.
I'm having trouble gathering my thoughts. Even though I know it is foolish, I keep racking my brain trying to think of any other way.
"Why? Why?"
Why am I never rewarded? Why, when I am so serious and so good and so upright? Surely, this is Being X's malicious hand at work.
"Damn that Being X… I wouldn't put it past that bastard."
But what is even more depressing is the thought that this might not be the work of a malicious supernatural entity after all.
"Maybe it's just sitting back licking at the sweet honey of others' misfortune while a world full of malicious intent does its dirty work. Is that what's going on? I swear, it'll pay for this…"
Not that Tanya would ever begrudge someone for licking at the sweet honey of others' misfortune. Ultimately, people are free to think what they
like. Tanya respects freedom. However, she is also completely free from the kind of perverse romanticism, bordering on masochism, that would allow her to approve of a malicious entity creating an environment simply for people to suffer. Hence why her thoughts, now shaken by doubt, indignation, and contradiction, are able to overcome standards she would have stringently adhered to in normal times.
"If it is the only choice, the only thing to be considered, then is it not the right choice?"
Like reinterpreting orders. A slight deviation from what is defensible. "Maybe…falsifying orders will even be good for my career."
Tanya, who cherishes self-interest and sees her subordinates as personal meat shields, Tanya, the good believer in rationality, who values personal credit, prepares herself to act in direct opposition to military law.
I'm still hesitant, but that is natural.
But, but, but. While Tanya waffles, time is ticking. The sad truth is that the longer she takes to come to a decision, the more that is lost.
A few days' delay could mean tens of thousands of soldiers transformed into mincemeat. Most importantly, her own future could be closed off forever. Unacceptable.
3 Bruce McCandless: Bruce McCandless was a communications officer in the US Navy. After gunfire obliterated his ship's admiral, captain, and nearly all the other senior officers aboard, McCandless valiantly assumed command, issuing orders in the dead admiral's place. And for that, he was nearly court-martialed for violating the rules?! Or? Did he act wisely and correctly? In the end, McCandless was given a Medal of Honor.
-x-X-x-
[Image]
-x-X-x-
Tanya says no to red. Better dead than red.
There is totalitarianism, and then there is totalitarianism. Imagine living in a nightmare beneath the iron curtain, praising the party as always right.
Count me out.
If something isn't done, we are going to lose this war, my life and my assets will be in peril, and even if I survive, the iron curtain will be waiting. Maybe I could defect. Naturally, that would be the plan. I'd rather get as far away from that oppressive totalitarian regime as possible.
But that is just a wish. Only what I hope would happen.
In the spirit of altruism and free will, as a freedom-loving libertarian, now is the time to evacuate, I tell myself.
"I have to do it; this is my only choice."
Why? How? What does it matter? Who cares anymore if it is unfair? Pulling at my hair, I realize once again that in a world such as this,
where someone as good and proper as me is not rewarded, the idea of a just-world hypothesis is nonsense. Throwing the last scraps of hesitation to the wind, I fully commit to pulling myself up by the bootstraps in a glorious display of self-help.
"Ha-ha-ha, it's time to bite the bullet."
Splendid human rights, the beautiful rule of law, the ideal of a just world. That is the kind of world where I belong. But I've been ripped from that world by Being X and sent to this absurd place, full of malice, where my own career prospects are constantly dashed to pieces by war.
As a good modern citizen, Tanya has prided herself on being introspective and self-restrained. But Tanya's belief, that this is what is good about her, has been her weakness.
"Just you wait. Just you wait, Being X."
That's right. I have been far too good until now.
"I knew all along I was too good of a person, but I've been given a painful reminder."
I prided myself on being good, faithful, and civilized. On following the rules. But in this end, this deep respect for credit, love of the market, and pride in being faithful as a person are too correct—the result of being born in an age where, historically speaking, violence has decreased to the point of rarity.
When it comes to making an emergency evacuation, I realize now, deep
down, that unusual times call for unusual answers.
"I will protect the world and my rights, and I will do it for myself…!"
First Lieutenant Grantz had grown into a veteran officer at some point.
Urgently summoned to the command center? Grantz knew this can be nothing good. Besides, spend enough time on the battlefield, and you pick up a thing or two from the radio.
Moments ago, all had been laid-back, and there were even people cracking jokes, but now the radio was frantic with war talk. Even the biggest fool would realize that the troops were being prepared for battle.
While some friendly forces who hadn't quite accepted the situation yet might need a kick in the pants to get going, preparing for combat was as natural as breathing for Grantz. All that remained was to head to the command center, get his orders, and then implement them. In times of crisis, the only thing that needed to be done was step to the front and confront the crisis head-on. This was Grantz's perception of his own role, and evidence of his trust in both himself and his superior officer.
However, that day, much like those confusing days when he was first appointed, despite being in the command center, Grantz was not sure of his role. But that couldn't be helped. When he saw Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff waiting for him, she looked different. He had never seen her like this before, face red, eyes glistening, and staring at him as if at the end of her own rope.
"I asked you here to consult with you and to make a request."
Grantz's superior officer was swaying uncomfortably, as if nurturing some internal conflict, and yet her eyes were sharp and clear. In all his eventful time in the military, Grantz had never, ever, not even once, seen something like this.
The situation was strange.
"I want you to understand that I take full responsibility for what we are about to discuss.
"Do you understand? Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff asked, smiling.
The way she was staring straight into his eyes left Grantz speechless.
What is this? What's happening?
Grantz's eyes instantly raced around the room, turning toward Major Weiss and First Lieutenant Serebryakov, who were there as well, but they only stared back, waiting for him to answer.
Unable to bear it any longer, Grantz finally spoke directly to Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff.
"Colonel, I don't understand what this is about…"
What was she doing, at a time like this, when fighting was already breaking out across the front? Something seemed off.
The higher-ups decide on a direction, and we just do our best. That was how it had always been. What did she mean, "consult"? Pushing back the unpleasant sensation threatening to overtake him, Grantz, to his own astonishment, directly questioned the lieutenant colonel, his voice mixed with a tinge of wariness.
"What could there possibly be to talk about?" "I want to confirm something with you."
Huh? In response, the lieutenant Cclonel turned her blue eyes toward the confused Grantz. A shade of entreaty even appeared in her eyes.
"First Lieutenant Grantz, you were in charge of an escort unit underneath General Zettour, correct? I am pretty sure it hasn't been updated yet…but do you still have your encryption code from that time?"
"If you mean the key, yes. As long as it hasn't been updated, I think it should still be valid."
"That's good. In that case, we can get started."
Started. As Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff said the word, Grantz was certain he saw her lips turn up into a smile. On the receiving end of that smile, Grantz could still only wonder what this was all about.
"Colonel? I'm sorry, I still don't understand…"
"It's nothing very difficult. I would like you to read this order."
Why him? And not Major Weiss, who was next in command? Grantz took the piece of paper, doubts withstanding.
It was an operational form. Grantz was used to seeing the format with its scribbled ink.
"There are orders?"
With that, Grantz directed his attention to what was written within.
To: Eastern Chief Inspector / Eastern Command
From: General Staff Chief of Strategy (Colonel Lergen)
1) The eastern chief inspector is to immediately transmit a response plan based on existing orders.
2) Eastern Command is to confirm instructions from General Zettour's chief of staff using dedicated one-time pads.
3) Eastern Command is to exercise maximum confidentiality regarding this matter. Rising Dawn merits the greatest caution.
To: The Eastern Army
From: Eastern Chief Inspector Zettour
In accordance with directives from the General Staff, based on September 10, UY 1927 orders by Generalfeldmarschall Rudersdorf and General Zettour, chief staff for the eastern army are as follows below.
1) The following is transmitted based on orders from General Zettour.
• Regarding the current situation
The winter offensive launched by the Federation Army is a multiechelon wave attack aiming for operational depth. The enemy likely hopes to destroy our field army.
• Response
The entire line must strategically withdraw and rebuild defensive lines. Units should not become bogged down in existing defensive strongpoints. Prioritize holding lines of communication and defending against enemy thrusts as much as possible.
• Orders
1) All Air Fleet units deployed in the east are to dedicate their full force to achieve air superiority.
2) Sealed Defensive Plan No. 4 is to be opened and implemented immediately.
3) The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, part of the Lergen Kampfgruppe and reporting directly to the General Staff, is to be extracted, and Salamander Kampfgruppe is to be formed around said battalion. All aerial mages in the east are to give full, priority support to Salamander Kampfgruppe.
4) Die-in-place orders are suspended. Freedom to advance or retreat based on tactical judgment must be delegated to all units.
5) Eastern Chief Inspector Salamander is to commit Salamander Kampfgruppe to aerial battle.
The contents of the order reflected the current war situation. Grantz could see that. After reading, however, Grantz turned his eyes back to the contents once more.
Looking over it again, poring over every word, Grantz soon realized, albeit reluctantly, that not everything here made sense.
"What is this? What is the meaning of this? An order dated September tenth, 1927? From the eastern chief inspector? And…why Lergen Kampfgruppe?"
Grantz would not exactly say that he was familiar with the eastern army and the General Staff personnel matters. From a somewhat detached point of view, Grantz considered himself, in the end, to be a field officer who had already thoroughly buried his desires for advancement in a lonely corner of the battlefield—a different beast than high-ranking officers like Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff and General Zettour.
He thought of himself as someone on the ground who carried out the orders of those above him.
But this talk of a Lergen Kampfgruppe? And of some eastern chief inspector he had never heard of before using Salamander Kampfgruppe? As a cornerstone officer, such orders were not easy to stomach.
"We're Salamander Kampfgruppe. I can't imagine General Zettour making a mistake about something like that; would he really issue an order
like this?"
Lergen Kampfgruppe was the false name used when Salamander Kampfgruppe was deployed to the east. Even Grantz knew that. But there was no need to newly form Salamander Kampfgruppe; they were already right there.
"This doesn't make any sense, does it?" Grantz said, passing the order over to Major Weiss, who was sitting next to him. Is this why they had been gathered there? he wondered.
"None of this makes any sense whatsoever. This was sent by General Staff? Is this some kind of mistake?"
"Not quite," the lieutenant colonel said somewhat deliberately.
"Well then…," Grantz started, wanting to know what his superior officer was getting at and unintentionally sounding somewhat accusatory. "Just what are you saying?"
Grantz was expecting an immediate answer. As an officer, Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff sometimes tested him, but she was never reluctant to explain. Most importantly, she was the type to speak directly and clearly to her subordinates, and to readily share the essence of a situation.
In other words, to speak about what was necessary.
That was the kind of superior officer Grantz knew her to be. No. Not just Grantz. He was sure that Major Weiss and First Lieutenant Serebryakov shared this opinion as well.
So then why now of all times? In such an urgent situation? Why pull out this bizarre order…and after talking about General Zettour's codebook?
Grantz's thoughts suddenly froze.
"C…codebooks? General Zettour's?"
Grantz remembered what his superior officer had said earlier. "I asked you here to consult with you and to make a request." "I want you to understand that I take full responsibility for what we are about to discuss."
At first, he hadn't understood what she was getting at. But now Grantz began to wonder. The bizarre piece of paper that Major Weiss was now staring at in confusion—Grantz had no idea what it meant, but it seemed she was speaking to him not to give orders but to consult on something, something that Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff herself would take responsibility for.
Having thought things through thus far, Grantz felt an unpleasant
sensation rise in his throat. He began to speak, almost sure that she would deny what he was about to say.
"Wait—wait a second. Colonel…?" It couldn't be.
With confusion oozing from every pore, Grantz tuned his eyes toward his superior officer almost beseechingly. She nodded slightly, finally answering him as wished—though the answer she gave was 180 degrees from what he had hoped for.
"Lieutenant Grantz, it seems your imagination has stumbled upon the truth. Please encrypt the latter transmission and deliver it immediately to Eastern Command in the name of General Zettour's escort company."
""What?!"" Major Weiss and First Lieutenant Serebryakov interjected in perfect unison, their mouths agape. If it wasn't for the circumstances they were in, Grantz might have laughed and asked if they had choreographed their reaction.
The order Grantz had just received, however, was no laughing matter. "Colonel…are you saying—?! Do you mean—?!"
"Yes, and?"
"That would constitute falsifying orders! And forging Colonel Lergen's name!"
"Not quite. Colonel Lergen is already on board."
"C…Colonel Lergen? Is on board? With all this? No, just with his part?" "Exactly. I falsified the orders. I am proposing to you that we provide
the orders below to the army in General Zettour's name."
Grantz froze. Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff's statement left no room for mistake. Major Weiss, meanwhile, looked taken aback, finally understanding what it was they were talking about.
"F…falsified orders?!" he shouted.
As Major Weiss shouts in surprise and begins to rise from his seat, I stop him with a sharp stare. I make eye contact with each of my subordinates in the room.
Major Weiss is confused. First Lieutenant Grantz, while still bewildered, understands the situation and seems to have enough sense of mind to listen
to my reasons. First Lieutenant Serebryakov's face is a faint mixture of hesitation and understanding.
"Okay," I say with a nod.
Major Weiss is too serious to understand this. First Lieutenant Grantz, who has some experience being in General Zettour's company, is better equipped. And my adjutant has faith in me.
It's turning out better than expected.
I suppose someone as faithful and wise as me is blessed with so-called natural magnetism. Even in a crisis, I am proud of my ability to explain the necessities of business.
Now then, I choose my words. The core of persuasion is not to impose.
The key point is to elicit agreement.
After all, this is not an order grounded in authority. It is precisely because this is not a situation in which obedience to proper orders can be taken for granted that acquiring agreement from my subordinates is so important.
Thus.
It is practically the first step in the art of negotiation, but I start by putting them slightly off guard, purposefully highlighting why such a drastic step must be taken.
"Our army is on the verge of annihilation." I stress that we are in crisis.
I pause briefly to allow Major Weiss to get his stubborn mind around what I've said, before repeating myself to emphasize how important it is that they understand.
"Do you understand, Major? Our army is about to be destroyed." "D…destroyed?"
"That is correct, Major Weiss. The Federation army has launched an attack across the entire front, as you have heard. We were told it would come in spring at the earliest, but look around. We've been taken completely by surprise, don't you agree?"
Have them say yes. It doesn't need to be big, but that is the technique. By having them agree to something, anything, coming out of your mouth— simply agreeing with the other's opinion will help them to unconsciously take those first steps in your direction.
"Well yes, that's true. But…but why does that mean we have to falsify
orders?!"
"Because it is necessary," I say, staring directly at Major Weiss, in a strong voice that she hopes will ring with confidence. "The enemy's aim is to attack our army."
After presenting the crisis and capturing their agreement by framing it as we are under surprise attack, I present the enemy's true aim next —the field army's annihilation.
"Do you understand?" I glance around the room.
All three officers are still confused, but they seem to be listening to what she's saying. To make it easier to understand, as a specific example, I venture one of their own past successes as a ghastly case study in what the future holds.
"In other words, our field army is now in nearly the same position the François Army was in when they were surrounded on the Rhine front. While not certain, there is a high possibility that something has befallen General Laudon. At the very least, Eastern Command has fallen into utter confusion. General Laudon is not at the helm."
"That's like…"
"Yes. You remember, don't you, Major Weiss? What we did on the Rhine. After cutting off the enemy's head, the remaining enemy soldiers were like rats in a trap."
Operation Revolving Door.
It was a splendid stroke of war on the part of the Imperial Army against the François forces.
While different in nature, these consummate professionals, the filthy Federation Army Commies, were now aiming—through similarly fearsome arts—to literally crush the Imperial field army that was deployed along the eastern front.
"What happened at the Rhine does not begin to compare in scale to what the enemy is now rolling out. If we don't withdraw immediately, the enemy's jaws are going to swallow us whole."
Smacking a map down on the table, I continue:
"Look here. We have just a smattering of reserve units in the rear… If our main force collapses, we'll be wide open; defense will be meaningless."
I hope that my next words will seem persuasive.
"Think of what happened to the Republic after it lost its field army."
I stare at each of my subordinates in turn, meeting their eyes. At last, I speak to First Lieutenant Grantz, urging him to remember.
"The Republic lost its field army in a single blow as well, and what followed was a tragedy. Do you disagree?"
"I…" First Lieutenant Grantz swallows hard, then nods.
"After the Republic lost its main force, their line collapsed like a boulder rolling down a hill. We didn't even need to proceed to their capital…"
"That's right," I confirm. "That was a glorious day for us. Do you really want to see what happens when it's our turn, and the shoe is on the other foot?"
The answer is almost certainly a unanimous no. It doesn't have to be much, but get them to agree often and repeatedly.
Using that as leverage, I start by positing my own sense of danger.
"Our victory on the Rhine front was accomplished by decapitating their command and destroying the enemy field army. You know this as well, don't you, Major Weiss?"
"W-well, that is… Yes."
After all, Major Weiss, First Lieutenant Grantz, First Lieutenant Serebryakov—they were all there with Tanya. The ones turning the revolving door to surround and annihilate the François Republic Army.
Annihilation.
After that, it was like mowing down an empty field. Yes, the remnants have holed up in the colonies where they continue to resist, but for all practical purposes, the Republic has fallen as a nation.
"Without the field army, continuing the war is impossible."
Hence why the field army needs to be preserved. My adjutant, who is closest to me, is the first to pick up on the unsaid logic.
"And effectively, the eastern army is the Empire's largest… If we lose this, would we even be able to regroup in the short term?"
"Absolutely not, Visha. Unfortunately, it would not be possible."
An army is an organization. A far cry from a mob with rifles. Few groups need expect as solid a foundation for organization building as does an army.
They would need to retrain recruited reserves for commissioned and noncommissioned officers alike before they could even think of finally sending them into battle. And neither commissioned nor noncommissioned
officers can be trained overnight.
Let alone during a world war like this!
While it's true that officers grow up quickly now—as more highly experienced officers drop like flies, spread like organic matter on the earth together with their own entrails and leaving those left behind to take on the remaining burden—such mass-produced veterans are a far cry from true old hands.
Under these circumstances, if we are to lose the field army deployed in the east, where would we find the personnel to fill holes left in core staff? If we manage to paper over such deficiencies even slightly, it would be a miracle.
As my adjutant nods, Major Weiss speaks up in bewilderment. "Lieutenant Serebryakov?! Not you too! Are you mad?!"
"The army is in danger. And if the army is in danger, we need to save it." "Don't be crazy! Falsifying orders would be the real danger to the
army!"
First Lieutenant Grantz watches their exchange with a nervous expression on his face, but he apparently isn't interested in interceding. From his point of view, he probably recognizes that Major Weiss is right, but he also can't refute the necessity posed by First Lieutenant Serebryakov. Has he even noticed this himself? His reaction shows that, as a third party, First Lieutenant Grantz has recognized the logic in hearing out and
considering what Tanya has to say, crazy as it might be.
He can be persuaded.
The moment that becomes clear, Major Weiss, unable to get anywhere with First Lieutenant Serebryakov, makes another desperate appeal to Tanya.
"Colonel, please reconsider!"
Squeezing every ounce of goodness and sincerity he can muster into his voice, the upright Major Weiss pleads.
"I'll keep what you've said here to myself! I'll take it to my grave! Just please go through the proper channels!"
Unfortunately, Grantz seems to be affected by Weiss's desperation. "Yes…please, Colonel!"
The two serious men plead in unison for Tanya to reconsider. It's undeniable that they are speaking out of goodwill and concern for Tanya,
who is in fact acting rashly.
"Thank you, Major Weiss. You as well, Lieutenant Grantz. I'm happy that you care so much for me."
First, consent. Then thank, trust, and express appreciation. Only after that do I begin to twist the logic to her own ends.
"If the time ever comes that I attempt an insurrection, I'll know that I can rely on you both," she says with a grin.
After attempting to make their faces twitch with a showy grin, I shrug. "However, what I'm speaking of now is neither an insurrection nor even
a mutiny."
It is an emergency evacuation. Nothing more, and nothing less.
"The neighbor's house is on fire. We are only reaching for the hose.
Nothing more than that."
"Colonel, are you serious?! It doesn't matter how you justify it!"
"I am sane and sober. I simply know that we need to do what must be done."
Hesitation and distress surface in Major Weiss's desperate eyes. "However," I say, whispering the hard truth in a decisive voice. "I am repeating myself, but as things stand, the army is in danger. This can only mean the end of the Empire."
There is no answer. But that means no rebuttal, either.
Putting this aside for now, I begin to work on First Lieutenant Grantz again, who is sitting next to Weiss and thinking in silence.
"Lieutenant Grantz, you saw it with me… The Federation Army, gathering in secret."
"I saw it, but…but that doesn't justify anything we might do," the first lieutenant asserts. For a first lieutenant, it is a surprisingly sensible opinion, I suppose.
"It may not justify all means, but I am trying to tell you that this is necessary."
"A withdrawal is necessary…? To the point of falsifying orders?"
"Yes," I say, firmly answering First Lieutenant Grantz's question. "Unfortunately, Eastern Command is in disarray and has lost the ability to maintain the chain of command. By the time they recover enough to analyze the situation, it will be too late. And even without orders from above, the units will probably hunker down in their positions and attempt to
wait out the enemy, genuinely believing they will be able to repel enemy forces once a counterattack comes."
The reality, however, is plain.
"The enemy is suppressing the field with artillery across a hundred- kilometer front and at a depth of ten kilometers. Points in the rear, such as divisional headquarters, are under attack by enemy partisans and air assets. And General Laudon is missing. The only exceptions are units such as ours that were only just deployed."
In other words, our side's disposition has been leaked almost completely. The enemy certainly knows where our center of resistance is located, where our defensive lines have been drawn, and where our reserve forces are standing by.
"The enemy has planned everything meticulously. With this offensive, it would not be too much to say the enemy has staked everything they has on finishing the war."
If we hunker down in strongpoints under these circumstances…it will only postpone our own destruction. No, even more foolish, it would be like putting down a reservation on our own annihilation.
After all, the Federation Army is almost certainly acting under the assumption that this is what we will do. Hunkering down is how Imperial units respond to enemy attacks after all, isn't it? The field army becoming enclosed in strongholds by the Federation Army would be the inevitable outcome. By holing up, under the assumption that reinforcements will come, the imperial units will miss their chance to withdraw and instead be annihilated as they wait for reinforcements that can never arrive in time.
Thus, I put it simply.
"Parry and withdraw. There is no better ward against destruction." "Colonel, isn't there another way?" First Lieutenant Grantz asks, as if to
be sure. I quickly respond, leaving no room for doubt.
"None. The only way to avoid catastrophe is to have the forces retreat now, while organized withdrawal is still possible."
There is no time to spare. Even the time spent persuading them is a loss. "But be that as it may, why not go through the proper chain?!"
Major Weiss continues to be stubborn, unable to step outside the lines. Properly speaking, he is right. His behavior is admirable. It is how a person should behave. As a company man, I even feel respect for him. Still, the
flexibility to recognize necessity would be preferred this time.
"It would be too late, Major. It truly is unfortunate, but we need to decide right here, right now."
There is no time to spare. If we did have time, I would be the first to respect the rules.
Internally, I laugh in self-contempt. Deep down, I detest breaking the rules. But placed in this detestable environment where she is forced to do such things, this is the decision she has reluctantly made.
"Imagine we dither now in hopes of finding a right way to do things. Do you understand me?" I say, placing my hands on my hips. "In two months' time, if we are lucky, our front line will have pulled back five hundred kilometers. The most likely outcome is that, back in the Empire, they will be cradling their heads, wishing they made this decision now."
"F…five hundred kilometers?!" Major Weiss shouts in astonishment, having the geographical knowledge to immediately understand what that figure means.
His sensibilities are admirable.
"We could lose all our strategic depth. If we want to use this space to cushion the attack, now is the critical moment. Can you see how a little independent decision-making falls within our scope of duties, if it is for the sake of hanging on to five hundred kilometers of space?"
"I'm sorry, five hundred kilometers…?"
That is how much distance we'll need to serve as a buffer zone. Or rather, this is the distance that the Council for Self-Government can expect to lose. The Empire has been nurturing them to make up for our critical shortage of personnel, but there's little doubt they'll be literally blown away.
Even on the map, it is plain; they are creeping toward the Empire. "I can't believe it. It sounds impossible."
"Is it? An army would have no problem advancing eight to nine kilometers per day even on an infantry's legs. Without a field army to defend against that advance, it would be easy."
"This can't be…," Major Weiss says in astonishment.
"You're right, I lied," I say, apologizing slightly as she corrects herself. Five hundred kilometers in two months isn't actually true. Only five hundred? They should only be so lucky, I bemoan internally.
In the history that I know—in that other world, Earth—the Soviet Army advanced approximately seven hundred kilometers in just five weeks. With some back of the envelope math, that comes out to an average of twenty kilometers per day. More than twice the threat, simple or not.
But twenty kilometers?! Twenty?! Who would believe me? Even my own subordinates can barely believe ten is possible. They think it sounds too pessimistic!
We are in the infuriating Being X's haphazard world. There is no way to be sure just how far it resembles Earth, but all the same, I expect the worst.
It is simple. If the main force is crushed, the Empire will be helpless.
And then the old world will likely turn red.
That is bad enough, but most grave of all, my whole career will be literally thrown in the trash, my life will be in danger, and my property rights will be violated.
That can't be allowed. The world is mistaken. And so the mistakes must be corrected!
Feeling backed into a corner, my thoughts are racing a million miles per minute, a veritable manic spring of madness. However, I can't help but hurtle forward, as even when a person becomes derailed, they remain convinced that their thoughts remain rational.
"I'm certain. That's exactly why the default defense policies Eastern Command is rolling out can't be allowed to happen.
"That is why it all goes back to the falsification of orders I brought up in the beginning," I say, trying to get my subordinates to understand.
"The only solution is to conserve our main force and sacrifice space… As a simple problem of balance, no other outcome is possible."
This is the nature of strategic depth.
"The Ildoans used their own mainland as depth. We must use space."
The Empire were the ones who caused it, but even the Ildoans, who were known for their love of their native land, used that land, their own nation, as their depth. In which case, there was no reason for the Empire to be so stingy with its own strategic asset of depth.
Stunned as he is, Major Weiss proves to me, with his next question, that he is far from stupid.
"Right now, are you saying we are in the same position that Ildoa and the François were in?"
Waiting for defeat? But the answer is clear, even before he finishes. "Exactly."
It is the only answer. I fold my arms. This is unavoidable reality.
Fortunately, however, the Empire still has strategic depth. The operative word being still. One cannot stress that point hard enough.
Thus, I extend a hand and, with eyes free of doubt, stare at each of my subordinates in turn.
"Please lend me your hands. To save the Empire."
And for my sake. But of course, I have no obligation to say that part out loud. After all, if they don't ask, why should I answer?
Besides, if they fail, she is the one who will be assuming all responsibility. Hesitate as much as she likes, why go out of her way to spill something now that she would never say under normal circumstances?
"There is one thing I need you all to know, however."
It is hardly in for a penny, in for a pound… "All the responsibility will fall on me."
…but if I am already breaking taboo and risking firing squad, what else is there to fear? Responsibility—oh, that loathsome word. What of it? If I could die either way, the word responsibility has no more weight than a single sheet of flimsy paper!
"All of it, the orders, the requests, the commands. Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is acting completely of her own accord. None of the responsibility is yours."
If one is in a position of responsibility, one must take responsibility. In that regard, I'm prepared for the worst and does shirk at the prospect.
"If necessary, I do not mind if you testify that I threatened, deceived, or even coerced you. Of course, that is why I've excluded Lieutenant Wüstemann. Involving him as well seemed a little too much."
It is hardly real immunity. But…if it is enough of an excuse to move them in their hearts, then maybe that is good enough. Well. I decide to try my luck with an appeal to patriotism as well, hoping not to sound too contrived.
"Everyone, I am willing to drink this poison for the Empire's sake. Nothing more can frighten me. If I can take a sip, I can just as soon drain the cup.
"You are the only ones I can rely on," I say.
"To save the Empire and prevent the Imperial Army from being destroyed, lend me your strength. Please, I'm asking you. For the Empire."
First Lieutenant Grantz is the first to answer. "So be it."
"Lieutenant Grantz?!"
Major Weiss looks at Grantz as if he must be joking, but the first lieutenant makes himself clear.
"I saw them with my own eyes. Just a fraction of the enemy. But even that was massive… I don't think the colonel is mistaken."
"It's our only choice." First Lieutenant Serebryakov nods in response. "I agree."
That is all she says. But it carries enough wait to give Major Weiss the push he needs. The idea is still new, but he sighs heavily and then speaks in a strained voice.
"Fine… Colonel, are you really prepared to do this?" "I am."
"In that case, there is nothing more to be said… No, there is one thing. I will support you with all my strength. Allow me to accompany you."
Realizing she has gotten her way, I bow my head. Thank you? I'm sorry? It would be difficult to say it's quite either of those feelings she wishes to express, but the movement comes naturally. Or perhaps this nonverbal bow is her way of expressing both of those feelings at once, when words do not suffice. Not even I truly understand.
"Now then. This may not reflect too well on me after telling you how prepared I am to face the consequences, but… First Lieutenant Grantz. I hate to do this to you, but it will be up to you to save our hides."
"Huh?"
"In order to falsify orders, deceive the army, and ensure a happy ending once everything is said and done, we are going to need a pardon in the form of General Zettour's ex post facto ratification."
If they fail, it will mean death by firing squad. But if they can justify themselves, things could still work out. That was how it had gone in Bruce McCandless's case. Exactly. If they were to be recognized as having a logical reason, their acts could be forgiven.
I want to believe it will be the same in this case.
I can see understanding in First Lieutenant Grantz's eyes. I make a
request.
"If we can just explain things to the general, he will listen. The general is someone who sees reason. Which is why failure is not an option."
Hence why I stare into First Lieutenant Grantz's eyes now, together with Major Weiss and First Lieutenant Serebryakov, as if to convey to him just how truly, greatly important his role is.
"I am going to have you take a long-range flight soon. As a messenger. This is authorized. Through regular channels. Head to the General Staff Office and reveal everything to General Zettour."
"Understood… I'll go immediately!" A decisive response. I nod.
"I've prepared a note. Worst case, present this to Colonels Lergen and Uger."
"What is it?"
"A minimum explanation of the situation. Do not show it to anyone else.
If it comes to it, burn it if need be."
Filling him in on the main points, I urge caution.
"Explain the situation to General Zettour. The sooner, the better. If you delay and the General Staff tries to figure the situation out for themselves, things could get complicated for us."
"So it's a race against time?" First Lieutenant Grantz says before suddenly shaking his head as if exasperated. "You know, this is almost starting to feel like business as usual."
"It might as well be," I say with a nod, watching First Lieutenant Grantz as he departs.
A solo long-range flight. There's a good chance he's already preparing as quickly as he can and will be taking off as swiftly as possible. Whether or not he gets there safely, however… I file that concern away in the back of my mind as something not worth worrying about.
Solo or not, they would have to be pretty unfortunate for a veteran magic officer like him to fail at a mere messenger run. In such a situation, it would be doubtful if even Tanya would survive, so there is no point in considering such an unlikely scenario.
"Now then. If it were up to me, I would like to go into this fight with the full force of the Kampfgruppe."
Unfortunately, the Salamander Kampfgruppe was expecting to take its
time until spring to get ready for battle. At the moment, it is impossible. First Lieutenant Tospan is babysitting new recruits. And Captain Ahrens's tanks are being completely overhauled at the backline maintenance parks. Captain Meybert's artillery alone are just barely ready, but they are too slow. Besides, despite having only just been deployed, their ammo stockpile is atrocious.
Honestly. Seeing as everyone assumed war was still months away, it can't be helped, but they are all so unprepared. And of course…
…the other units are probably in the same state, I add internally.
The most cautious among us might be minimally prepared. However, we fundamentally misread the situation. Worst-case scenario, we assumed the Federation counterattack would come in spring at the earliest. Based on that, everyone probably prioritized getting forces ready by spring. How many units are actually ready for immediate action?
Salamander Kampfgruppe is directly attached to the General Staff and supposedly receives preferential treatment. Even for us, the only component ready for immediate action is a single magic battalion.
"Damn it all," I mutter.
The realization of just how hopeless the situation is truly shattering.
Confronting the unpleasant reality directly, in any case, is aggravating.
But economics are forever logical.
After all, economics teach us that rather than losing all by trying to throw good after bad to get back what has already been put in, one must sometimes liquidate and cut their losses.
Hmph. I shake my head, alighting on the best option under these unruly circumstances.
"Prepare to receive orders. Except for the mage battalion, transfer command of all units in the Kampfgruppe to Captain Meybert. In general, requests from the eastern army can be ignored. However, I am to be informed if any orders are issued under General Laudon's name. Outside that, until other orders are received from either myself or General Staff, the Kampfgruppe is to remain deployed near Eastern Command and should conserve its strength."
"Are we evacuating?"
"No, guarding, in case we need to repel airborne strikes on command.
Keep in mind that the enemy may also try aerial mage drops."
We will have to do this with just the core mage battalion. Major Weiss grimaces at this decisive order.
"Are you sure? I know we're still regrouping, but a mage-only battle?" "Only mages have mobility. With the situation as it is, where we would
rather not defend strongpoints, it would be riskier to wear out our forces. "And besides," I say, whispering quietly to Major Weiss. "When our
side withdraws, I doubt they will do it in an orderly fashion… I'd rather our Kampfgruppe's ground forces not get entangled in friendly chaos."
"Are you sure about this, Colonel…?"
"I understand your concerns, Major. But I've issued my orders with that in mind. Our army cannot afford to meaninglessly lose even a single veteran. And besides…"
Guarding Command is an excuse to leave behind the majority of the Kampfgruppe, but it is not solely an excuse.
"…the threat of airborne assaults is real."
"I find that hard to believe. This isn't just the rear. We're talking about imperial Eastern Command…"
"We've thrown decapitation tactics in the Federation's face plenty of time before. I'd prefer they stay drunk on their ideology a little longer, but those Commies are surprisingly quick to pick up new tricks when it comes to war."
Naturally, a knowing look crosses Major Weiss' face. Cut off the enemy's head, then kick the torso while it's immobilized. At the end of the day, it is the Empire's, their own unit's, stock-in-trade.
There is no reason the enemy won't try to do so as well. After all, they have been on the receiving end enough times themselves. It is better to be prepared.
However. I let out a soft sigh.
"It would be wonderful if we could prepare for anything, but unfortunately, there are limits."
"I'm sorry, you've read the enemy's movements, haven't you? Is there anything worse that could happen?" First Lieutenant Serebryakov asks.
Feeling my face about to twitch, I force myself to speak calmly. "There is one problem remaining."
I formulated the withdrawal plan in anticipation of a first and second echelon. But even the first echelon is a massive force. The idea of the
second echelon sweeping in while the first already holds the eastern army in place is terrifying. Hence the reason for withdrawing, just barely stopping the enemy once they are stretched to their limit.