Enough time, perhaps, for them to miss their chance to raise objections. After all, the organizational culture known as the Imperial Army has successfully instilled into the officers the standard military principle that once a course is decided upon, it absolutely must be followed through.
“Now then, gentlemen. It is simple. Have your men go conduct as many air strikes as possible while you work yourselves to the point of death here in preparation for the airborne operation. Nap no more than is needed for survival. That is how we do both.”
JANUARY 20, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, THE EAST
Supply lines are the lifelines of an army. Armies in all times and all places have attempted to cut off their enemy’s supplies, dreaming of encirclement and annihilation.
The Imperial Army’s Hans von Zettour is one more figure in a long history of generals who have attempted to cut the enemy’s supply lines. And, like his forebears, he knows that this is easier said than done.
In that sense, General Zettour is a veteran. The general has succeeded on multiple occasions in striking back against major enemy offensives carried out by a massive force, even when his own force was depleted, precisely by targeting the enemy’s logistics. That is evidence of his might as a strategist, of the knowledge he has amassed as an expert in logistics, and of the charlatan skills that made him an enemy of the world.
In the end, however, numbers talk. That’s why concentration of force and its careful application are all important. So long as the garden-variety approach remains viable, a dull, textbook, garden-variety approach will be the most sure.
But when it comes to a gamble, when a depleted force attempts a miracle, such as attacking enemy logistics in order to cause an upset, then nothing is certain… Either way, as ardent believers in necessity, the Empire has no choice but to target the Federation’s logistics.
And so, in pursuit of necessity, the Empire has used every ounce of its strength to rally its mages together. When you look at the situation that way, it almost sounds gallant. On the ground, however, there is little gallantry to expect beyond the gallantry of words. We on the ground have our fill of sadness, instead.
The Imperial mages, scraped together by fair or by foul, do in fact measure three divisions in total. Considering that even the recent large-scale—what might even be called unprecedented—mage air strikes decisively carried out in the Eastern inspector’s name was only done with a single mage division, these numbers very well may represent every last mage the Empire was able to muster.
Naturally…if the army had tried to go about things the fair and proper way, they would have never been able to produce such numbers. As a result, what we are left with is far from fair and proper.
“Ha-ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha, what can you do but laugh?”
I can’t help myself. Considering the situation, I was prepared to see a few young, green crops mixed in with the yield. When General Zettour started mentioning that they could hardly pull instructors from the training units…well, that was exactly what I began to expect. But…I had expected at least some restraint!
“Forget about instructors and early graduates… It looks like these mages might have still been in training.”
Had they shipped off anyone they could find with even a smidgen of magical aptitude to the front? That’s right, let’s give the kiddies a chaperone and let them out for the day. Who cares if this little field trip happens to be to the very front? It will be the experience of a lifetime for them, at least.
“You know what they say; the picnic isn’t over until it’s over.”
Tanya’s mind fills with memories of the peaceful, modern world. After seeing countless battlefields, I thought I knew better by this point than to relax before making it back home, safe and sound, but this incident has taught me something new.
For better or for worse, Tanya is able to compartmentalize. Everything in its place. Whether new recruits or trainees, they are still soldiers at the end of the day. Meaning, legally speaking, nothing prevents them from being sent into battle.
Although there might be a difference between volunteer and conscripted soldiers, as far as I am concerned as the one utilizing them, that is someone else’s problem.
At the end of the day, however, I am a creature of self-interest. I rub the corners of my eyes as I glance at the other divisions.
“The Empire is determined to drive me absolutely mad…” I know I shouldn’t say something like that in my position, but I suppose I just wasn’t able to keep my true feelings from slipping out.
And who are those men over there? Disabled veterans? There are a few small clusters of men among the ranks who are so advanced in age that one might expect the Empire to send soldiers to the front who are missing a limb or two next. As long as they were mages, that is.
“Degurechaff… Lieutenant Colonel…?! I see you’ve moved up in the world!”
“Hrm? Is that…Kahteijanen? Warrant Officer Kahteijanen?!”
Warrant Officer Anluk E. Kahteijanen. A former subordinate, evacuated from the Rhine front due to disability, I believe around Unified Year 1925. But if I remember correctly, Kahteijanen had retired.
“Didn’t you leave the army after getting food poisoning from a potato?”
“Well, yes, that was what kicked it off. But according to the doctor, my liver had stopped working right due to a sustained buildup of food poisoning…”
“So it wasn’t just the potato, then.”
“Well, a sign of the times, I guess, I ran into trouble and had to retire. But I was contacted by the army again later.”
As unlucky as he had been, at least he was able to retire thanks to his golden ticket injury. But it is just like the Empire, sweatshop that it is, to pull the poor unfortunate man out of retirement anyway.
“When did you return to your current post?”
“I came back as an instructor only recently. I thought I was just going to be spending my days drilling that second-rate program they now tout as ‘extreme hands-on training’ into the rookies’ heads… I never dreamed they’d actually send me into combat again,” he adds, muttering softly.
“How about the trainees? What is their actual skill level?”
“Going by flight time alone, they’ve had over two hundred hours.”
Hrm? I cock my head in surprise at this unexpected figure.
While two hundred hours is still far too little by frontline standards, it is not too terrible considering the state of total war we find ourselves in nowadays. It all depends on the curriculum. But as far as flying goes, at least, it sounds as if we might just meet a minimum level of standards.