“It’s delightful, isn’t it? Their cries. Exhilarating,” said Colonel Uger, sharing his honest feelings with the general.
Zettour laughed heartily—so heartily, in fact, that his stomach muscles cramped.
“G-General?”
“Ha-ha…ha-ha-ha! Aha-ha-ha-ha! How fabulous! Excellent! Thank you, Colonel Uger! Truly, what a waste it would have been for something this wonderful to pass without my knowing!” Zettour laughed cheerfully, repeatedly smacking Colonel Uger on the shoulder.
Despite her age, Degurechaff never failed to surprise him. Always a delight.
And if that was the promise of the future—yes, the radiance of the young might cast a shadow in its wake, but that too was cause for smiling. The whole thing was so delightful it made Zettour want to do a little jig.
Of course, that only proved how much of his composure he had lost. But while his own mind sneered at him, with the way things were going, it would have been foolish for Zettour not to follow the choreography that had been laid out for him. Indeed, why not dance?
Having made up his mind, Zettour called for the press officer, addressing him pleasantly.
“I’m sorry, but would you mind publicizing this throughout the Empire? It is too good. It is too good, indeed.”
JANUARY 20, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, THE WORLD
The objective had been to sever the enemy supply network using division-sized units. The plan was mobilize three aerial mage divisions and deliver one division to each of three strategic locations via airborne drop—a force deployed into the enemy’s rear to sever, destroy, and choke important supply lines. Under normal conditions, this would be a fairly ordinary, even textbook, maneuver. In other words, if it were actually possible, it would be effective. Hence its inclusion in textbooks.
However, the leeway needed to fight by the book had long since vanished from the Empire. Under their financial straits, when they were already trying to squeeze blood from a stone, they shouldn’t have been able to muster three whole airborne divisions to insert into the East, let alone have the transport capabilities to deliver them.
In fact, the real state of affairs was even grimmer than that description suggested. Even if they squeezed out every drop of blood, sweat, and tears to get the troops and transports required, they still lacked the air supremacy needed for such tactics. Indeed, they couldn’t even hope for local air superiority.
But destroying enemy communication lines was an absolute necessity, and the Empire emphasized that above all else. For that reason alone, General Zettour did not balk at consigning that many aerial mages to an airborne drop.
Usually, aerial mage units were organized like air squadrons. For mages, a battalion had just thirty-six members. Yes, just as an air squadron had thirty-six individual planes.
Three battalions formed one regiment, and three regiments formed one division. Now then, a question! How many members would a division have? The answer: 324!
In other words, a fighting force equal to three divisions could be tossed into the enemy’s rear for the same transportation cost as required to deploy a single augmented airborne battalion. For the Empire, toiling in poverty, such a prospect seemed highly appealing.
And this way, there was still a chance the enemy would be taken by surprise. Or so they hoped. The Federation Army was meticulous. The options available to the desperate Empire had already been explored by the Federation. Having once been on the receiving end of Operation Iron Hammer, the Federation Army had considered the likelihood of a large-scale airborne counterattack by the Empire in response to Rising Dawn as nearly self-evident.
The ordinary old generals of the Federation Army had even speculated that, in the worst-case scenario, if they chose to drop mages, the Empire might not even need strategic transports. After all, even if the transports were shot down, the mages could fly on their own accord.
After reviewing reports that, for a battalion, an entire unit might fit into a single large transport plane, and understanding that it would be impossible to shoot down every plane with 100% certainty…General Kutuz was now sure that airborne attacks were on the table.
Prioritizing safety, the generals even considered the possibility of an attack by a full regiment of airborne mages. A few military men wondered if they weren’t being too pessimistic and conservative, arguing that it was foolish to disperse their force. However, with the persistence of a professional, General Kutuz persuaded them that they could not rule out the possibility that the enemy would target their logistics.
But even those generals never imagined that some thousand mages would come pouring out of the sky.
That was the beginning of their miscalculations. If the assumption in the East was that a single battalion of aerial mages could easily lay waste to a mechanized regiment or brigade, then, by simple calculation, a division of mages (composed of nine battalions) could effectively wipe out nine mechanized regiments or brigades. In other words, twenty-seven aerial mage battalions would be equal to twenty-seven mechanized regiments or combat brigades.
In reality, a force that size would be monstrous, fully capable of taking on even thirteen mechanized divisions.
And if, instead of being used to shore up the crumbling front line, that force were mercilessly deployed in concentration into the Federation Army’s rear, they could be transported with the resources required for a single augmented infantry battalion.
Later generations would surely say that it was for this reason that General Zettour was known as a charlatan. As the Federation attempted the world’s first full depth strike, the Empire implemented the world’s very first AirLand Battle operation.
The scales tipped ever so slightly in the Imperial Army’s favor. A daring and mobile airborne operation. A nimble and proactive counterattack made possible only by the presence of aerial mages, who could both carry out aerial attacks themselves and operate as airborne infantry.
As a result, the Federation Army’s Rising Dawn began to wane, and the Imperial Army’s Morning Light began to take hold. Thus, the world trembled before General Zettour.
THE SAME DAY, EXTERIOR PERIMETER OF BARUCH BRIDGE, PROVISIONAL ON-SITE IMPERIAL ARMY AERIAL MAGE DIVISION COMMAND CENTER
Still.
While everyone is hypnotized by such dazzling results, three full divisions of aerial mages already exceed the limits of what the Empire can squeeze out. As a result, those on the front lines—the men forced to swallow this contradiction of glory and limitation—find themselves in a difficult situation.
It has been less than two weeks since Rising Dawn began, and only a day since the Empire launched its counteroperation. The mages who dropped behind enemy lines are already growing beleaguered.
“This is rough…,” I mutter softly, standing by the foot of Baruch Bridge. When one is actually on scene for such heroism, it is easy to forget the many reasons these heroic tales exist. In other words, these are monuments to non-routine work. Work that is highly specific to individuals, requiring one to heroically rise above one’s actual pay grade. Sweatshops, where labor dumping knows no bounds.
“We need a bigger force.”
The word “division” may sound impressive, but we are only a mage division. There is at least an order of magnitude of difference compared to an infantry division, usually even two. In terms of destructive power alone, a mage division is capable of achieving the same effect as a mechanized division. But like a nuclear weapon, just because we are capable of delivering force does not mean we can occupy a position or defend a strongpoint.
At the end of the day, holding a fixed point requires infantry—and in large numbers. Although, despite popular belief, even if we had the numbers, improvising as infantry is harder than it sounds. In fact, I can barely stand to watch the nearby mages, who are currently putting on a sorry show as they attempt to build up our defensive position.
Obviously, when it comes to infantry work, infantry are best. Mages are professionals at mage work, but when it comes to the work of infantry, mages can at best make do. Building up an encampment like infantry, or establishing a careful defensive position, is not something mages have much experience in. The seams are showing.
Hmph. What I wouldn’t give for someone like First Lieutenant Tospan right now—a no-nonsense infantry commander and skilled field engineer. If I had someone with that kind of experience, perhaps the men would stop digging ragged holes and start building proper trenches instead!
There is a reason experienced workers are preferred.
The mages who have any experience in trench construction from the Rhine are slightly better, but sadly, new hires are so often chosen for their potential rather than their experience. In other words, maybe they will learn to dig a marvelous hole someday, but that day isn’t today. These new recruits have only just been whipped into usable shape as mages; if they are still green behind the ears as mages, then as infantry, they are even less prepared. This stark reality makes me want to hang my head.
“I guess I’m going to have to start by teaching them how to dig trenches…”
Ridiculous. They couldn’t dig a hole if their lives depended on it—and they do! I am tempted to scream. What possible reason can they have for not taking this more seriously? Instead of starting with how to dig a hole, it looks like I might have to start with why.
In any case, most of the rookies sport soft hands and reluctant faces, as if they cannot believe I have them out here digging ditches. They probably thought they were going to don slick mage uniforms and zip through the air. I am not naive enough to expect them to be ready for the realities of trench warfare just yet. The first time they come under artillery attack, they will almost certainly panic.
“Ugh, this is giving me a headache.”
Keeping my complaints to myself, I puff my chest out proudly, as is befitting a commanding officer. An officer needs to stand tall. It would not do to show weakness before the men.
Internally, I grimace. It’s time to play drill sergeant and maintain an absolute appearance of courage, even if it is just a mask. Just then, a somber and serious Major Weiss approaches, his face glum—a sight so sour that someone should take a picture for the textbooks. “Major Weiss! Did you just get dumped or something? You look like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders!” I joke, purposely lightening the mood so the others might smile. This is the kind of personal, pseudo-sexual ribbing that would never fly if we weren’t in an age crazy enough to wage global war.
“What? No, it’s just…”
“Major, it is good to be thoughtful, but I think you need to loosen up a bit,” I say lightly, deliberately emphasizing my point.
Major Weiss suddenly seems to remember that there are eyes upon him. As an officer, he straightens up and forces a friendly laugh, adjusting his mask to appear exemplary.
“Now then, Weiss, what is it?”
“Colonel, the truth is…” He hesitates.
“Wait,” says Tanya, raising her hand. “I need to keep an eye on construction. Let’s walk and talk.”