During that journey, one of the few ways to pass the ti was sharing rumors. As he'd
heard, the old stagers either slept, played cards, or spread rumors. Grantz dozed now
and then, otherwise chatting as the train rocked along. He heard so rumors he
knew of, too.
For example, one legend at the academy said a second-class student had once
murmured that Cadet Degurechaff was more terrifying than the battlefield. She
certainly is scary. Such were the thoughts running through his mind as he presented
himself at Rhine Command.
When he arrived, he heard he would be attached to an instructor unit, which was a
relief.
According to Command, he'd be retrained as a replacent before getting his
assignnt, so the first thing to do was get used to the front lines.
Maybe I can do this! It was several days ago that he had thought that.
"Gentlen, welco to the Rhine front!"
If the devil exists, it has to be our instructor, the commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage
Assault Battalion, the legendary Major von Degurechaff.
The way she smiled. The way she looked at us like we were maggots. The way she
seed thirsty for blood.
I'd believe she had tried to kill a rebellious underclassman or crack his skull open. If I
screw up on the battlefield, she'll definitely kill . That's how threatened I felt by the
instructor who just had to also be my advisor.
…I wanna cry.
Out of all the replacents, I was the only one who had been through the academy. In
other words, everyone either didn't know the rumor that she was a demon in the guise
of a little girl or laughed it off. The ones who figured they could handle war if that little
kid could were on the safer side.
Just the thought of what the ones who underestimated her might do made my stomach hurt. I've never hated the words collective responsibility so much.
Tonight, I'm off duty. I should go to bed early. It happened just as I thought that.
We were summoned. The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion was ordered to appear in the
briefing room, grouped by platoon, within three minutes.
"Hurry up! Run!"
I urged my platoon, who had been finishing dinner; raced over to the briefing room;
and just barely made it at two minutes and fifty-one seconds. No other platoons had
arrived yet. Well, no, in ran Seventh Platoon; they'd been competing with those of us
in Fourth Platoon. That second, the three minutes were up.
And the next second, the superior officers broke into broad grins and went to go get
the tardy platoons. Did the others even feel bad for being late?
In any case, we all assembled quickly. And our smiling battalion commander
announced a night picnic plan. Not that it involved anything like a picnic.
"Unfortunately, gentlen, I think that aside from Fourth and Seventh Platoons, you
deserve penalties."
This was the major who had once said during a speech at the academy that deadweight
should be killed. I pitied the groups who hadn't been able to make it in three minutes
because I figured they would be thrown into hell, but that wasn't right.
"In order to teach you the importance of haste, I'm sending you to the trenches. Since
you don't seem to understand when I tell you, you'll experience firsthand what
happens to slowpokes."
They'd actually be buried in the depths of hell. The shocked mages were imdiately
assigned to the warning trench. The warning trench on the front lines of the district
with the worst fighting… They would be what are commonly called "canaries," the first
to get attacked on the forward-most line. The mortality rate was naturally the highest;
it was a position where you couldn't rest for even a mont.
By the way, they're called canaries after the caged birds that are taken into mines. The
comparison is made because of the criticism that the raison d'e tre of anyone in this
post is to stop responding.
But I shouldn't have been relieved.
"Now then, you fine, punctual fellows, I have a reward."
She looked at us one by one as if she was going to tell us sothing wonderful. My
platoon mates next to seed to be expecting a reward, but I wasn't.
I had a really bad feeling.
"You get a little amity-building recreation. We'll go on a picnic, make a toast, and invite
so new friends to co back with us. I guess you can call it a party."
As soon as she said that, soone handed us a pamphlet that said Field Trip Guide.
Picnic procedure?
"First, equip hand grenades and your shovel; then ready your rifle and computation orb.
Dress in night camo for CQB. By the way, if you use your computation orb or rifle without
permission, you'll be shot or beaten to death. Republican soldiers are people, too. That
ans you can make friends with them"?
Then why did we have to knock them out with shovels?
"…In ancient tis, people made friends by talking with their fists"?
"Civilized people of the present use the implent born of civilization, the shovel…"?
This is crazy. No one said it aloud, but it was the look on everyone's faces. This was a
nightti mission to abduct enemy soldiers—a so-called intelligence-gathering
mission but extrely dangerous nonetheless. If we were going to drag enemies back
with us, it went without saying that we would have to approach the enemy trenches.
Basically, we had to sneak up to the enemy position—where machine guns, all types
of heavy artillery, infantry guns, snipers, and tons of soldiers were waiting—and
abduct enemies out of the warning trench, which was the place that was on highest
alert.
"…We're gonna die."
It was from there that things would get really intense. "After using your shovels to
mingle with lots of friends, let's invite so to our house. But I think all our friends will try to keep us from leaving in various ways. The field trip lasts until you shake them off
and make it ho"?
"Incidentally, I'm not too worried about you punctual fellows, but one thing…" She
bead. Oh God, please save us. "If you're too slow, we're leaving you behind. Yes,
anyone who wants a quick double promotion can stay out there. We wouldn't want to
hinder your success in life."
She said the sa sort of thing when I first t her. I didn't realize it was word for
word the truth!
Magic Second Lieutenant Warren Grantz realized he was shaking.
My survival instinct was screaming. I wanted to avoid the war, the combat, the killing.
I was hesitating.
But one glance from Major von Degurechaff was enough to subjugate that instinct. She
was far more terrifying. We sallied forth like lambs being herded by a sheepdog. No
one raised so much as a groan. We advanced under the cover of night, crawling in
silence.
The commander was the first to strike. We heard the thudding of her shovel followed
by the grunts of several people. We whacked the enemy soldiers caught with their
guard down, too, as if our lives depended on it.
How much ti passed after that?
It felt like the experience lasted a lifeti, but in reality, it was only a few dozen
seconds.
It was a short mont. During that tiny amount of ti, all the enemy soldiers in the
specified area of the warning trench were either incapacitated or deep in a sleep they
would never wake up from.
I could still feel the shock of the shovel impact in my hand; it was different from the
recoil of shooting like we were taught at the academy. That particular feeling, the
sensation of crushing sothing, was still impressed upon my body.
If I had been left like that, I wonder what would have happened to .
"It's ti. Company, carry the prisoners. Newbies, you're support. In thirty seconds,
the magic ban is lifted. We're flying outta here. Sync your watches—three, two, one,
start."
But the orders delivered in a calm, unruffled whisper brought back to reality.
Combined with my training, they slowly got my body moving. That's what I had been
drilled for. My training saved .
As instructed, thirty seconds later I started up my computation orb at full throttle and
took off.
We really hightailed it back to our own defensive lines. It only took a few minutes. All
we had to do was fly—simple. But it was horrible. My heart raced with every artillery
shot. It hurt to breathe.
I was so terrified I hardly felt like myself anymore.
When we climbed up high to avoid being shot accidentally and set a safe course for
the rear base, all the stress left my body at once, and weariness washed over .
…How could the major just calmly sing a hymn?
Today, after completing her morning exercises and eating breakfast, Major von
Degurechaff reaches for her pen as if she's made up her mind.
In the rear base, the mail can get through. Naturally, it's possible to send a letter if
necessary.
It's military mail, so sotis there are delays, but in general, things can be sent and
received like any normal letter.
Of course, soone like her with no relatives doesn't have any personal letters to
write.
She only ever writes on official business or unofficial business.
What she's writing this ti is official. That said, in a rare case, she takes out her
stationery hesitantly, and her pen moves over the paper awkwardly.
She's already written a pile of these docunts. She just accepts that they're work and gets them done. But today the tip of her pen feels heavy.
Well, it would be stranger if a person could write it without trouble.
To the dear family of Warrant Officer Anluk E. Kahteijanen,
I am Magic Major Tanya von Degurechaff, his superior officer.
I regret to inform you that your one and only young Anluk E. Kahteijanen is being
discharged with a disability.
He beca abruptly ill during an operation, and the surgeon has judged that it would be
difficult for him to endure lengthy military service.
His recovery will most likely require a long recuperation period at ho or in a military
hospital.
The Personnel Division has agreed to go ahead with this treatnt plan.
Please speak with him and ensure he has a restful convalescence.
And please forgive us for returning your child in such a condition.
He is an outstanding mage, our irreplaceable brother-in-arms, brave and trusted by all.
We are deeply saddened to no longer have Anluk E. Kahteijanen in our ranks.
Small consolation though it must be, I recomnded him for the Field Service Badge
First Class and the Disability dal, both of which were approved.
I hope he makes a full recovery.
Sincerely,
[xxx] Unit Commander, Imperial Army Magic Major Tanya von Degurechaff
…To think the day would co when I'd lose a man to so bad potatoes. Apparently,
the legendary remark from an Arican Thunderbolt pilot that even a veteran can't
beat food poisoning wasn't a joke.
So those potatoes really were rotten after all. Tanya puts away her pen, irritated by the
worsening logistics situation.
Sending a letter to the family when sothing happens to a subordinate is the superior
officer's responsibility, and I'm not against writing…but food poisoning from potatoes?
Tanya has finished the letter, but she has complicated feelings about the incident and
can't get over it.
He had eaten, participated in a night raid, and shocked upon our return by
throwing up and complaining of an awful stomachache. I was dumbfounded. A veteran
writhing about like that, I was sure he had to have been hit by an NBC weapon. Those
work even on mages. I hurriedly cast a dical formula, but it only eased the pain.
Protective films provide comprehensive NBC coverage, and I rember we were on
the verge of panicking that so new weapon not on that list had been developed.
When the surgeon rushed over and examined him, we were finally able to sigh in relief.
In other words, it was just sudden, acute food poisoning. And it only hit unlucky Anluk
E. Kahteijanen.
He was a good mage, damn it. I never thought I would send soone away from the
front like this.
But it's really great that Personnel treated his condition as a disability. This way, he
gets his pension, and his honor as a soldier remains intact. And I, as an officer, won't
have the blemish on my record of a dishonorable subordinate.
I an, you can only really laugh at an officer who loses a man to bad potatoes. Who
would have thought I had a guy in my unit who would be taken out by his own
stomach…? Nah, it's not even funny.
The Republican bombardnts co as always, shaking our position like clockwork,
but I must feel oddly reflective on this auspicious day because I sent a man to the rear
for a difficult-to-verbalize reason.
That said, what we learned from this lesson was promptly applied. As such, this
morning's breakfast was bacon, hard biscuits, and ersatz coffee. The vegetable soup
featuring the guilty potatoes was hastily disposed of. Personally, I worry about my diet
being unbalanced without vegetables, but there's nothing I can do about it.
I had soone go to get supplies first thing this morning, so I figure maybe we'll get a chance to eat canned vegetables with lunch. And well, even if we are on a battlefield,
we can't escape falling into routines, and I'm a bit sick of it. It'd be great if we could get
a al that's not part of the rotation.
Aside from these things, our daily battles in the trenches take place in the world of All
Quiet on the Western Front. We basically repeat the sa pattern day after day. The
only novelty to keep my attention is whether the recruits training on the front lines
are doing well or not.
Well, I only put them in yesterday. Tanya expects that after a week's baptism of war in
the trenches she'll find out whether they're usable or not.
If not, all she has to do is send them back and apply for their retraining.
So although she regrets war's brand of tunnel vision, she devotes herself to instructing
her troops. First, just as her boss said, she gave them the most difficult test first;
despite the risks, she reluctantly took them on a night battle, but to her surprise and
delight, they only lost two.
Though she'd told everyone they were leaving in thirty seconds, that pair couldn't
keep up and were blown away in an artillery barrage, a fact confird by one of her
subordinates. That was all. Apart from that, the newbies all followed instructions, and
no one went insane. As Tanya mulls over the recruits' misfortune to be blown up
together in their two-man cell, she finds herself in a sowhat philosophical mood
and begins to wonder about the role of luck in food poisoning.
In any case, she's doing what she needs to do.
But actually, even though she's doing what she needs to do, she sotis gets
doubtful looks.
For instance, she reported in, "I'M INSTRUCTING THEM ACCORDING TO YOUR ORDERS."
And the response she received was "ROGER. GOOD LUCK."
But then when they went on the night raid and lost only two n, the higher-ups told
her to be more careful next ti. She began wondering if maybe they wanted her to
do it with zero losses.
But this is a battlefield, she argued, and we went on a high-risk operation. Losing two newbies under those circumstances is not bad.
But when it cos to luck, it seems Tanya has to admit that she needs to take certain
things into account.
Still, she finds it lantable that just because they don't want any losses and her unit
got unlucky, the bla is laid on her as the commander who was present.
I know history repeats in little ways, from private companies to the Yankee military.
For example, when that guy MacArthur ordered his subordinate Eisenhower to plan a
parade and then insisted he had no mory of it—there are a number of rotten
incidents like that throughout ti.
Still, Tanya is feeling really sad. Ahh, I might start to cry. I an, I'm a girl, you know!
…??
When her thoughts stray, she suddenly realizes she feels off.
Her mind floods with the horror of psychological contamination.
She runs off in search of so kind of help as if her life depends on it.
A doctor! I need to see a doctor!
-x-X-x-
APRIL 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE,
JOINT ETING OF THE SERVICE CORPS AND OPERATIONS1
-x-X-x-
"Well, it's the appointed hour, so I would like to begin the joint eting between the
Service Corps and Operations surrounding the pros and cons of the Rhine offensive
plan."
The officer presiding over the eting spoke, but no one followed him, and silence
reigned.
In contrast with the splendid exterior of the building, the expressions of the highranking n in the eting room were dour.
So of the officers were practically tearing their hair out with incessant worries,
unsure what to do, and among them was Major General von Zettour. The situation
changed from mont to mont, and just getting a handle on what was going on
was incredibly difficult. Moreover, the Empire was learning from the rising pile of
corpses, courtesy of the Republicans, how fundantally impossible a frontal
breakthrough was in trench warfare.
That is, the price of a front assault on the trenches was too high. On the other hand, a
large-scale firepower offensive would put too much strain on the supply lines.
They had just improved the supply-line light-rail to the front, but there were already
requests from every post for reinforcents coming in day after day.
The burden on supply had blown through prewar estimates long ago.
The Entente Alliance was essentially collapsing, and it was necessary to allot so
military strength to the area for a short ti to ensure it, which also weighed heavy
on Logistics.
Even the local army group alone was enough to secure overwhelming superiority for
the Imperial Army in the north, but the harsh winter weather had held them back.
They weren't in a situation where they could spare troops to reinforce the main
fighting lines on the Rhine. These lines would probably be frozen stiff until next spring.
In other words, it would be a while before they could expect any easing up on the
supply line burden from the north.
anwhile, the navy was in the process of gaining superiority in the channel against
the Republic, but the navy and army disagreed on whether that was a good thing or
not. The air and magic forces were prepared to support either side if asked, but the
army's and navy's worries were just so different.
The navy apparently couldn't wait to break through the channel. After all, their
ambition was to wipe out the Republican fleet in a battle of warships. They even
proposed doing an amphibious operation afterward, like with the Entente Alliance, to
completely annihilate the country.
As far as Zettour could see, taking command of the sea for a landing operation seed
likely to keep casualties down far more effectively than advancing by breaking through
the trenches. The issue was the safety of the route if they went by sea. If they broke into the channel between the Republic and the Commonwealth, they had to be worried
about how the (superficially) neutral Commonwealth would react. Would it just stand
quietly by?
He'd already been over these questions with Major General von Rudersdorf. They
were both forced to conclude that if they entered the channel, the Commonwealth
would probably interfere to maintain the balance of power. If that happened, the fears
that made the rounds at the office in "Predictions on the Shape and Direction of the
Current War" and "Theory of Total War," would co true.
Yes, world war. The war's expansion would be like a never-ending chain reaction, and
they wouldn't be able to avoid it. If that happened, they could end up with a Rhine-like
scenario on every front.
The Republican Army on the Rhine lines was quite a handful. If it was only the
Republic, though, they still had a chance of winning.
But what would happen if so units from the Commonwealth showed up? They
could find themselves in the opposite of their current superior position.
As long as it was doubtful the Imperial Navy could stop the Commonwealth Navy, if
the remnants of the Republican Navy joined in, it would be all the imperial fleet could
do to protect itself.
Of course, they couldn't twiddle their thumbs for too long, either. If they waited to act,
even the Empire would run out of steam. Then they would lose the strategic effects of
having brought down Dacia and the Entente Alliance.
And they couldn't bear the idea of being beaten from the side by the Commonwealth
or so other interloping power. What can we do about this dilemma?
Yet, it was becoming clear that if they tolerated the current situation, anything that
happened to affect the supply lines could spell disaster. That was their irritating
predicant.
Since the founding of the nation, the Great Reich had obtained its historical lands but
was also hounded by territorial conflicts, so there was never any lack of sparks for the
next war.
Hence their distress. No one with a simple solution to a problem suffers. For better or worse, there were people present who knew the plan.
Zettour knew. He knew that all they had to do was not lose. Zettour believed, to a
rather surprising degree for a mber of the military, that there was no need for them
to go on the attack. Simply put, the status quo was fine.
And Rudersdorf was also aware of it. He knew there was no need for them to make
serious attacks on the trenches. Unlike Zettour, however, he couldn't accept the notion
that this attrition war was fine. He had the lucid determination of a soldier: If they
could control losses and win, then why not do that?
They finally both made up their minds and received permission to speak.
"I feel we should change the way we're looking at this problem."
Zettour didn't consider himself timid, but given the significance of what he was about
to say, even he was nervous. There was just a hint of stiffness in his voice, too small for
almost anyone to pick up, but he spoke as calmly as possible.
His secret plan to disentangle these snarled-up threads in one blow would be gory.
The Gordian knot is just a story. A sharp sword is sharp no matter who it's cutting.
"With our existing doctrine and values, we probably won't make it. We need a
paradigm shift."
Achieving victory by attacking the enemy castle and forcing them to sign a capitulation
was now impossible. It would be difficult to demand a full surrender outside of
instances like the Empire and Dacia or the Entente Alliance, where there was an
overwhelming gap in national strength. Looking at the current terrible war, it seed
the bloodletting would have to continue until one or the other of the powers couldn't
take any more.
"Don't aim for victory, avoid defeat. If we don't do that, it will be too hard to be the last
one standing."
"…General von Zettour, you an you oppose the offensive?" a mber of Operations
asked him, perplexed. That was as far as their thinking went.
No, that was probably common sense. To them, the offensive was how they would
overco and trample the enemy and end the war. But they were wrong
"No, I support the offensive as such, but I do think we should modify its operational
aims."
"Change its aims?"
Go on—no, stop. The question could an both of those things, and Zettour answered
by dropping a bomb in plain terms.
"The goal of the operation shouldn't be to break through. It should be to bleed the
enemy. To put it another way, our offensive plan should be to wear out as many enemy
soldiers as possible."
Conclusion: Exhaust the enemy.
"We carry out a thorough bloodletting and crush the enemy's ability to continue
fighting."
Degurechaff's remark.
He could still rember each and every word the young soldier said to him in the war
college library. The shock of hearing her speak so dispassionately about such a
horrible world was hard to forget. And now that everything was progressing just as
she had said, he was even more surprised. How much did that girl Degurechaff predict?
Predicting the future of a war is extrely difficult.
The only constant rule is that common sense can change in an instant and a new
principle of war can conquer the battlefield. There aren't many soldiers who can adapt
to those changes, so to think there's one who can predict them is…!
"In other words, we bleed the enemy until they collapse. This is the only way to resolve
this."
Soone unconsciously shifted, and the creak of the chair sounded extra loud in the
quiet room. It was completely silent.
Zettour was actually feeling calm in the face of it. No, strictly speaking, he was
sympathizing with Degurechaff. He sensed now that she had been able to speak so
calmly back in the library because she understood.
She understood the cost of breaking through would be too high. Even if they could pull
it off, their losses would be heavy. And if the Commonwealth, anxious about the
deteriorating war situation, decided to intervene, they would be pushed right back.
That would be the worst possible outco for the Empire.
If they shed all that blood not for nothing but a push in the wrong direction, the
soldiers' will to fight would crumble.
I couldn't send n in that condition back to break through again, at least. Giving the
order would only lead to more waste. So why not let the enemy make that mistake?
We'll just wait for the Republic to drown in their own blood.
Zettour believed this was the only viable option for the Imperial Army. In other words,
war is ultimately about not heroes or the expression of chivalry but how efficiently
you can kill your enemies.
To put it another way, it was inevitable that this conflict would beco total war.
"So we'll thoroughly puml enemy soldiers and supplies. I ask that we draw up an
offensive plan with those aims, and that is all I wish to say at this ti."
Surely, almost definitely, our future has been decided. The frozen expressions on the
faces of his colleagues and subordinates spoke to that.
You're crazy, they said.
The operation he proposed was the opposite of almost anyone's idea of common
sense. Leave parts of their territory undefended and prioritize wiping out the enemy
field army. And finish them off with a revolving door? You would have the army that exists
to defend the fatherland carry out this operation? No one could help but think these
things.
But sooner or later, the staffers sitting there would understand—there was no other
path. He didn't know when, but he knew they would co around to the plan for its
military rit, in every way except emotionally.
"I agree. Clearly, we should focus on annihilating the enemy's field army." Despite the
others' hesitation, Rudersdorf made a clear declaration of his strong support for
Zettour's idea. He was aware that posterity would judge them harshly, but he made up his mind and stated his position with confidence.
It's a mad world where promising youths are pit against one another in battles to the
death to see who can draw the most blood… And we're likely to carve our nas into
history as the ringleaders. If that's the case, then let's at least improve the situation a
little bit by putting an end to the war with our own hands.
"I have an idea… We advance. In other words, I believe the best plan is to escape
forward!"
And therefore, he made a proposal that was devoid of rationality: Fight the war aiming
not at the territory but at the army.
…Oh God, why do you let these things happen?
After vomiting up the contents of his stomach, including everything he'd eaten the
night before, Magic Second Lieutenant Warren Grantz was lanting to the heavens
in a corner of his lodgings. Even the recollection of what he'd just experienced
horrified him.
I hit a Republican soldier whose na I don't know over the head with my shovel and
kept swinging like a madman. Then orders brought back to reality, and soon after
that, we were ordered to leave.
I poured mana into my computation orb like my life depended on it so I could race
across the sky for all I was worth.
As soon as I took off, several machine guns began firing at .
I frantically ford my defensive shell and protective film. No matter what, I had to
get away. With that on my mind, I forgot about support completely and made a run for
it.
That's when it happened. Whether by so trick of fate or the work of the devil, I saw
the battalion commander climbing at a furious pace. Despite the dark veil of night, she
was singing a hymn in an invigorating voice—the battalion commander. I couldn't
believe what I was seeing, but I was scared she was escaping alone and would leave
behind, so I tried to follow her.
I don't want to get left behind was what I was thinking when I started to ascend, but right at that mont, First Lieutenant Weiss seed to co out of nowhere to grab
my arm and pull down. When we got back to base, he chewed out—Why would
you approach the commander while she's acting as our decoy? Are you insane?—but if
he hadn't saved , I would have been turned into minceat like those other two
guys who ca to the front the sa ti as .
At the ti, all I was thinking about was getting back, so my mories before I made
it onto a safe flight path are really hazy.
Looking at the scenes recorded on my computation orb, I want to thank God I was
sohow able to make it back from such a dense rain of fire.
It was only a few seconds. The reactions of the pair from Seventh Platoon were delayed
by re monts, but they paid for it with their lives.
One careless mont. But it ant so much.
The second I arrived at the rear base, the sensation of bashing soone's head
returned to my hands, and I felt sick. No, it wasn't just . All the recruits felt the sa
way.
The guilt—it was like I'd suddenly beco an unpardonable criminal.
And right next to us and the worries tornting us, the senior officers coolly began to
interrogate the prisoners.
"Tell the truth. If you don't, my hand might slip."
"Relax. We follow the law of war. If you fellows take the prisoner's oath, you'll have
your rights."
"Don't worry. We're not torturers. We're proper, sensible humans."
…I couldn't believe it.
I couldn't believe humans were capable of this.
This battlefield.
I had thought I understood that all manner of brutal, inhuman things would be done.
I'm a soldier, myself. I thought as long as I was in the military, I wouldn't hesitate to do
my duty.
…Keyword: thought.
But what was this?
Was this a soldier's duty, what must be done to protect the fatherland?
My duty?
I couldn't stand the feeling. It was a strange sensation, like I was losing myself forever.
I didn't want to rember my first…my first ti killing soone with my own hands.
People die too easily on the battlefield. People you eat dinner with one night disappear
by breakfast.
In just a short ti, I kill people, and my friends get killed.
The Rhine front is really, truly hell.
The urge to run flitted across my mind.
But then—
The batn ca to tell us breakfast was ready. Since we were at a rear base, as an
officer, I had the right to use the provisional officers' ss.
Put another way, I have to eat at the officers' ss.
As I rinsed out my mouth and straightened out my uniform, the mirror reflected my
haggard face. In just one day, I'd transford into a monster. I couldn't believe it was
.
"…Now I've seen war."
Quietly.
My inner thoughts slipped from my mouth on their own.
Leaning on the sink, I just managed to hold back the rising nausea, and then I looked
to the heavens.
Really, how can everyone act normal in this crazy world of war?
The mont I entered the officers' ss, the feeling intensified.
It was crowded with the officers from my battalion. I heard the commander had eaten
and was already at work. And the officers were taking their ti and chatting.
Despite what had just taken place, I even heard laughter. Everyone was smiling and
talking, relaxed. Sothing about the gap between the insanity suffusing the
battleground and this scene disgusted .
My batman waited on , and my food ca out, but how could I possibly have an
appetite? Even so, I still had the habit I'd learned in my military career to force food
down my throat if I had to.
-x-X-x-
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I used coffee to break up the hard biscuits and made myself eat them along with so
bacon. There was no way the flavors would register, but I figured my body needed
them to stay alive, so I swallowed them down.
Humans have to eat, even at tis like this. It's the sa as forcing food down my throat
when I was exhausted at the academy. That's what I told myself, but it took an awfully
long ti for to finish my al.
Then I found myself heading to the small auditorium for the usual morning classroom
session.
My ntality was to follow orders due to force of habit from the drilled repetitions,
again and again. Even tis like this when I had no willpower, I was still a soldier.
Then I realized I wanted to burst out laughing.
"…Wait a minute, what happened?"
I can laugh. It was a startling, refreshing discovery.
I guess I didn't expect it because of my situation. Apparently, the human spirit is
ridiculously resilient.
"Oh, I can't be late."
I took so long to eat breakfast even though soldiers, praised for their unceasing
vigilance, are supposed to get that over with quickly.
As a result, I had no ti to lose that morning. If I stood around lost in thought, I
wouldn't make it to the lecture on ti. When I realized what ti it was, I dashed off
to the hall.
"Magic Second Lieutenant Grantz coming in."
"Grantz? Sure, co in."
But when I got there, the desks were empty aside from a few company commanders
and key officers giving puzzled looks.
Am I too late? The worry flitted across my mind, but when I looked at the clock on the wall, I had just made it five minutes early.
Everyone was supposed to be there by that ti.
Normally, I would never be the only one rushing over here.
"What is it? You guys are supposed to have off today."
Lieutenant Weiss must have understood why I was confused, and I finally realized
after he said sothing.
"Sir, embarrassingly enough, I thought we had class today."
I guess the shock from last night was so great that nothing they told us registered.
Wincing, Lieutenant Weiss explained that after we got back we'd been granted leave.
With my head full of other things, I had gotten up unsteadily this morning, but
apparently they thought I was taking my ti with breakfast to enjoy it. In other
words, the superior officers figured I was having a relaxing breakfast on my day off, so
they didn't check on .
I should have realized sooner.
"I'm sorry."
"What? You're fine. But while you're here, tell what you thought of the raid," said
Lieutenant Weiss, pointing to a seat. The other officers didn't seem to mind, so I
decided to join them… Well, it was a good opportunity. You reap what you sow, after
all.
"Honestly, I was in a trance. Before I knew it, I was back at base."
I didn't want to die, so I had been completely absorbed in taking action. If you ask
what I actually did, though, my mories are hazy.
It was embarrassing, but I was honest with them.
"Yeah, that's how it goes, I suppose."
"Well, nice job making it through. With that as your first combat experience, your next
one should be a lot easier."
But the officers didn't really seem to bla . At the academy, I would have gotten
chewed out—Keep your head screwed on out there! On the front lines, they're more
realistic; they recognized that I had survived.
They were actually nice to , as if being considerate were the norm.
"Everyone has to run that gauntlet. Well, if you survive the commander's training,
consider yourself more or less fine."
"Lieutenant Serebryakov toughened up just by flying after her."
"Well, yes, that's true… Would anyone like to trade with ?"
"Ha-ha-ha-ha. I'm second-in-command, so I can't fly with her."
"It wouldn't do for company commanders to bunch up, so unfortunately the reality of
my duties prevents from trading with you, Lieutenant."
"It really is too bad." Lieutenant Serebryakov puffed out her cheeks and pouted as if
she were really fuming.
The collection of individuals here creating this peaceful atmosphere were the old
stagers who had been working so furiously the other day.
I suddenly felt like I might sigh out of relief. Up until just a mont ago, I was so
shaken, but I was starting to calm down a little bit.
Nobody said so, but I'm sure they had all been upset the first ti they shot and killed
soone.
But now they have those mories, and they aren't upset by them.
"Don't think too hard, Lieutenant. Just focus on staying alive."
Soone patted on the shoulder, and they let go. It was proof that the more
experienced officers accepted as a little bit tougher than a chick newly hatched.
The next day…
To Tanya, everything is going too well. For starters, when she wakes up, breakfast and coffee are already neatly prepared for her.
There are no harassing bombardnts and no enemies wandering into their airspace,
so after eating in peace, her first administrative tasks of the day go smoothly. Awfully
smoothly. A request that would normally take weeks to fulfill gets accepted in one try,
and the supplies are delivered right away.
How horrifying can it get? Parsimony is the supply officer's job, but he hands over the
special bullets for loading with interference formulas and the casting detonators with
a smile. eting a grinning debt collector or auditor would feel more real— No,
actually, they're all unthinkable.
This is the first ti everything has gone according to procedure; I never would have
imagined that supply delivery and paperwork inspection could be done so amiably.
Thoroughly astonished, Tanya has no choice but to be on guard at this unexpected
efficiency.
After all, supply and paperwork inspections operate on the iron rules of precedent and
not rocking the boat. In other words, you can practically describe them as a naturally
occurring phenona.
If they are acting unusual, it has to be a sign of abnormal conditions. I guess I should
avoid going out for a while, if I don't have to, Tanya thinks; she's not averse to preparing
for any eventuality.
Today is definitely going to be trouble. Convinced of this, Tanya steels herself. She'll give
strict orders to the troops in the trenches to be on guard. She'll have her unit at combat
readiness level two. She'll keep an eye on the enemy and make preparations to ensure
a rapid response is possible.
Then, for so reason, nothing has happened and it's lunchti. Food is served. It's a
real steak with sauerkraut. There's even rhubarb juice for dessert.
It all just arrived via the unusually smooth-running supply lines.
The mbers of her unit all dig in enthusiastically, but she still can't believe it and
inspects the food a bit before eating.
I'm jealous of the guy who struck gold with that potato condition and got to fall back
to a safe area.
I'm wondering if they want to send to the rear already due to the nudge I may have
given foreign policy regarding the Commonwealth. If I got food poisoning, they'd
happily sacrifice , so I can't be carelessly getting sick.
Of course, watching my subordinates wolf down the at is torture.
Being the only one who has to wait is sad, indescribably so if it turns out nothing's
wrong. I can't stand it anymore. Reluctantly balancing reason with desire, I am about
to start on my at, and that's when it happens.
Lieutenant Weiss cos running over with a telegram, and Tanya ends up missing her
chance to eat.
"Major, it's from Command."
With no choice but to lay down her knife and fork to exchange salutes, Tanya is the
very definition of displeased.
If he weren't so sensible I'd throw him out right now.
At least read the situation. It had better be awfully important if you're obstructing my
opportunity to have a fine al on the front lines where we have almost nothing to
look forward to. Unbelievably outraged, she can't help but reply grouchily, though she
knows it's an emotional reaction.
"…I'm eating, Lieutenant Weiss."
Her tone doesn't veer into criticism, but her discontent is faintly audible. Most
subordinates would hesitate if their superior spoke to them in such a voice. No one
wants to incur their boss's wrath. But in unusual circumstances, they don't yield. And
this is one of those rare situations.
"My apologies, but it's quite urgent."
And from the fact that he presents not a ssage tube but simply a short cipher, she
slls trouble.
"Hmm? It's not orders?"
Usually orders co by telegraph.
As long as it's addressed to the commander, no one can read it before them except for
the radio operator.
So short ciphers are used when it doesn't need to be telegramd or can't be.
Basically, it's going to be either stupid or utterly annoying and stupid.
"No, you've been summoned to appear imdiately."
"Summoned to appear imdiately? Understood."
Agh, what a day.
It's going to be horrible.
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