The organization known as the Imperial Army is one of, by, and for career soldiers who pursue military rationality and nothing else. A classic example of an over-specialized, one-track organization.
Perhaps it is a matter of pride in living up to their military reputation. But for better or worse, once a decision has been reached, the Imperial Army is as nimble as can be when it comes to taking action.
Eastern Army Command is no exception.
After receiving General Zettour’s strict orders via the General Staff, Eastern Command’s previous intransigence vanished in a heartbeat. Silencing their doubts, the staff officers began transmitting strict orders in General Zettour’s name to all eastern army units, ordering them to withdraw and occupy new defensive lines.
This is no simple retraction. Once a legitimate order is received, all other matters take a back seat. They are to completely abandon the prescribed defensive line and immediately, decisively, implement Defensive Plan No. 4.
While there are some discrepancies among the units, and despite the fact that the orders differ from prior assumptions, they have begun implementing them with relative alacrity. The Imperial Army may be on the brink of exhaustion and suffering massive attrition, but as a military body, they are unshakable—an organization that maintains control. Praiseworthy when it comes to waging war.
Withdrawals are generally difficult things to pull off, especially large-scale withdrawals from a front that is one hair away from crumbling. And yet the Imperial Army has accomplished this feat under incredible time constraints.
From an outside perspective, the Imperial Army’s level of organization is nearly perfect.
The moment the Imperial Army sensed the scale and purpose of the Federation Army’s attack, they completely abandoned the idea of stopping it head-on. Jettisoning prior assumptions, without regard for sunk costs, they began a full-scale withdrawal timed to the Federation Army’s advance, all while a division of mages sowed confusion by pummeling the enemy’s rear infrastructure.
As a result, the Imperial Army yielded space faster than the Federation Army had presupposed, while also accomplishing their main goal of conserving the main force’s strength.
Of course, this still took the form of a retreat while being hounded by the enemy. The Empire was running, and the Federation was the one doing the chasing.
That said, if the Federation Army had expected the Imperial field army to be tied up on the front line in a repeat of the Imperial Army’s decisive attack on the François Republican Army main force, they were soon disabused of that notion.
For an army, movement is attrition.
Even infantry tire from walking. Securing water, food, and places to rest is indispensable. Vehicles also require maintenance after a certain amount of use, and fuel has to come from somewhere.
The farther one gets from one’s center of operations, the greater the problems become. No matter how thorough your logistic structures, an army is always subject to the ravages of distance. While the fleeing side has bases to look forward to, the pursuing side only moves farther from its own.
As a result, whether they like it or not, the Federation Army—which is supposedly the pursuing aggressor—will be forced to remember one thing. The Empire’s objective is the same as it always has been: a counter. This is the Empire’s standard forte. The Federation will be expecting something like the baiting retreat and mobile warfare they experienced during Operation Iron Hammer.
On that point, the Federation Army has read General Zettour’s intentions almost to a T. This sort of inference requires no creativity, ingenuity, or great leaps of logic. Rather, it is military common sense.
The possibility of a counterattack of this sort on the Imperial Army’s part was even predicted before Rising Dawn commenced. What if the Imperial Army retreats as the Federation Army’s main force advances, then attempts to regroup and counter? The Federation Army had incorporated such possibilities into their plans from the start.
It was only by thoroughly crushing any hope of counterattack that the Federation’s main goal was achievable. Even the opposing imperials would likely agree that the Empire is on the back foot, scrambling to craft a sensible response. Even Tanya, with her insight as a career soldier, has calmly accepted this assessment as reasonable.
How careless of me to indulge in common sense when I know perfectly well what kind of creature Zettour is.
Compensation for that naivete is soon foisted upon me by First Lieutenant Grantz while I nibble on some of the chocolate included in the mages’ performance rations, which have arrived on time for a change. He has just returned from the capital.
I greet my subordinate, going through the formalities and thanking him deeply for carrying my message. Halfway through that process, First Lieutenant Grantz slowly produces a sealed parcel with a letter scribbled on General Staff stationery.
“For you,” he says, handing over the letter as if placing a live grenade into my hands. “Sealed orders, Colonel. With an accompanying letter. Delivered in the homeland by General Zettour. Please read the letter first.”
“Naturally. Now then, you said this is from the general? What on earth can it…?”
As soon as I take the letter and begin to absorb its contents, the rational part of my brain refuses to grasp its meaning, shouting instead that this makes no sense.
At the same time, the other half of my brain—used to unreasonable orders and demands—already understood the implications, and immediately ordered a main ballast tank blow at Tanya’s heart to keep it from being crushed by the shock.
I pick out just one word from the letter’s page.
“Airborne?” I say, cautiously, trying to avoid critical damage to my ego by immediately voicing those eight letters before my mind could be overloaded.
“A-airborne…?” I repeat, taking a deep breath and reluctantly facing the news that First Lieutenant Grantz has brought me.
My subordinate has officially received the full and total approval from General Zettour. By extension, this means High Command also approves. It is excellent news.
It truly is.
Even if it was to effect an emergency evacuation, Tanya falsified orders. Not only has my superior officer legitimized and pardoned my actions, he is also publicly proceeding with the same course of action.
By all rights, this is an outcome to be celebrated. Good news beyond my wildest dreams. What more could I have hoped for? But even with such good news to wash it down, the letter from General Zettour that First Lieutenant Grantz has brought is a bitter pill to swallow.