The Dacian War 3

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OCTOBER 23, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, IMPERIAL ARMY GENERAL STAFF OFFICE, DINING ROOM 1 (ARMY)

“That captain did say it lets you experience war rations.”

An officer who worked in Personnel was reported to have said it. The General Staff Office dining hall was a “perpetual battlefield café” that didn’t let soldiers forget their combat experiences, even in the rear.

Major General von Rudersdorf had no words to deny that. In fact, he secretly agreed with his junior colleagues’ opinion that the dining room and its “unique” cuisine seemed to be engaging with the Commonwealth in a fierce competition no normal person could comprehend.

And likewise, as far as Major General von Zettour knew, there were no General Staffers who actually liked the food. So perhaps it was ironic that although discussing confidential matters in a cafeteria was generally considered a poor idea, this particular place was actually the optimal venue for strategy meetings if secrecy was desirable.

It was Zettour’s and Rudersdorf’s natures to use whatever they could, together, to the fullest, and when it occurred to them that the dining hall was the best place for keeping things confidential, they reluctantly began taking at least one of their three daily meals there.

“…Time is not necessarily on the Empire’s side, though it isn’t exactly on our enemy’s, either,” Rudersdorf grumbled, sounding absolutely fed up. Irritated, he washed down some bread-like foodstuff with pseudo-coffee. Among all the ersatz items on the table, he could tell from the feel and luster that only the Meissen cup in his hand, and only that, could be called genuine.

“Taking our current situation into consideration, it’s not a good idea for the Empire to deal with two fronts for too long, but you still think time might be with us, Rudersdorf?”

Zettour looked dissatisfied with the food but smiled, somewhat amused, as he replied. He was in charge of logistics. Of course, as a General Staff officer, he could stick his fingers into strategy or operations just as much as Rudersdorf, who had long been involved in operational theory research and development.

The General Staff had simply seen what these two were capable of, so they put energetic, dynamic Rudersdorf in charge of war operations—mainly mobile—while expecting Zettour’s wise, scholarly precision to keep the military organization running smoothly.

And in Dacia, all expectations had been met. Rudersdorf set a perfect example of how to conduct maneuver warfare with his astuteness, whereas Zettour made arrangements for the efficient deployment of troops, even organizing the dispatch of an advance unit. Both of their talents achieved everything the General Staff had hoped for.

“Of course, more time spent will mean more waste. But that’s exactly why our basic strategy of knocking out the weakest enemies first, like we did in Dacia, shouldn’t change.”

“In other words, what you mean to say is, ‘I’ll give you time, so handle the logistics?’ Rudersdorf, I have to warn you, the Anluk E. Kahteijanen as well as the port facilities are already at their limits with the construction jobs and expansion work in Norden. Transporting enough matériel for a winter offensive will be much too large a burden.”

“If you say it can’t be done, then I guess it can’t. But I’ve known you long enough. You say it’s impossible, but you won’t convince me you don’t have an alternative plan.”

An ideal mutual understanding between the front lines and the rear. In a way, this was made possible by the rare cooperative relationship the two men had been able to build where they completely trusted in each other’s exceptional abilities.

“I’m sorry, General von Rudersdorf, but as far as I’ve heard from the managers of rolling stock in the Service Corps, the logistics situation in Norden isn’t going to improve anytime soon.”

“General von Zettour, do I need to explain to you about the possibility of a maritime supply route?”

Relaxing both his expression and the mood just a little bit, Zettour dropped all pretenses. “All right, all right. As you say, since the war began we’ve had our sea routes cut off, so there are all kinds of trade vessels anchored in the port that we could requisition.” It was a plan he had considered many times. “If necessary, I can send a nearly three-hundred-thousand-ton ship to a port facility somewhere in the north for a landing operation.”

“So it’s decided, then? I wish you would just say that from the beginning.”

“I have to warn you, this discussion is only valid assuming we have control of the sea. I’ll put up with a skirmish or two, but I’m not keen on the idea of losing a unit and a ship for the chance to gamble on an amphibious operation far behind enemy lines.”

Zettour frowned slightly. He was more worried about the possible losses than he was about the potential success of the operation.

It was true that the Empire currently had a glut of ships because the sea-lanes had been tenuous since the war started. There was a chance they could solve their supply and operational issues with them. But put another way, the Imperial Navy had nothing but vulnerable sea-lanes, so would they really be able to protect supply lines? That was the risk they faced.

As long as that was the case, maybe they could use the narrow straits near the Empire, but they had no choice but to be pessimistic about the idea of establishing a major supply route.

“You worry too much about supposed losses. Even if it’s a bit of a risk, getting behind Entente Alliance lines and cutting off their communications would crush them.”

Rudersdorf’s reply was almost carelessly optimistic compared to Zettour’s strategic concerns.

Despite the deadlocked front lines, the substantial gap in national power left the Entente Alliance on the brink of collapse just like Dacia. In other words, Rudersdorf’s take on the situation could be criticized as an oversimplification, but if the Imperial Army could seize a region in the rear the same way their soldiers had trampled Dacia, even the Entente Alliance would collapse on its own.

“I can’t deny it, but frankly, I don’t think they are much of a threat anymore even if we leave them as they are. Shouldn’t we forget about them and finish off the Republic?”

“There’s nothing better than having fewer fronts, but…”

On the point of whether it was actually necessary to force the Entente Alliance to completely collapse, a slight disagreement between Operations and the Service Corps began creeping into their remarks. Zettour didn’t think advancing north would do anything to ameliorate the logistical strain. On the other hand, from Operations’ point of view, cleaning up that front would make things much easier strategically.

“From the logistics standpoint, the burden of maintaining the amount of troops necessary to hold against the Entente Alliance is not a light one. Even without firing a single round of ammunition, soldiers starve to death if they don’t eat, you know.”

“I’m aware of that. But it’s true that compared to the Republic, it would be easier to take out.”

“Fine.”

In the end, both men had clear criteria for how to optimize the instrument of violence known as state warfare while not losing sight of their greater objective. An operation could be undertaken if it didn’t strain logistics too greatly and if it gave them a chance to shrink their active fronts.

Given the fact that in those operational terms there were no issues with gaining control of the rear in the north, Zettour agreed to draw up an attack plan.

“If we’re going to attack, I’d like us to consider the Osfjord.”

“The Osfjord? It’s too heavily defended. It’s situated inside that narrow bay, but I’m pretty sure they have a few coastal guns.”

“The city of Os is the main railroad hub. If we take that, all the Entente Alliance’s trains should be out of commission. Then we can stroll in and keep our troops’ supplies using their rails.”

The city Zettour pointed out was significant because of its role as a transportation center—presenting an opportunity to knock out enemy logistics in one fell swoop. It would be difficult, but if they could cut the enemy’s supply lines… When the thought crossed Rudersdorf’s mind, he could no longer hold back a savage smile.

“Got it. You come up with some really nasty plans, don’t you…? But it does make sense. So you want us to capture Os…”

If the Entente Alliance was crippled like that, their army would die like dogs even if their frontline forces put up a heroic resistance. A military with no head or limbs was just a mob that used to be called an army. Assuming things went as Northern Command hoped, victory could then be achieved with a short frontal assault… It could be so easy that they might want to consider how to achieve an even better outcome.

“Say you can do it and I’ll give you a unit. If it doesn’t work, I’ll just deal with Norden in a less sneaky way.”

“No, let’s give it a shot.” With that same grin on his face, Rudersdorf decisively met the challenge. He would try to take them down. It was the dream of every General Staff officer to dramatically shift the tides of war on the operational level with one large-scale battle. He nodded at Zettour as if to say he would even drink down this dirty-water coffee with a smile.

“Very good. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Oh, then lend me a mage unit.”

Rudersdorf was merciless in asking for what he wanted.

“A mage unit? Sure, but which one?”

“The pet in your pocket, the 203rd. I want you to let me use the troops that performed so well in Dacia.”

“That battalion’s a handful. Are you okay with that?”

The pet in Zettour’s pocket… They were a dauntless combat unit that had waged impeccable maneuver warfare in Dacia and had even bombed a weapons factory. Not only that, but they were an augmented unit equipped with cutting-edge gear from the Technical Arsenal. When Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen had reported on their training progress, he insisted, with undisguised shock, that there was no unit in the Empire that could match them.

“That’s fine. Besides, I believe the commander has combat experience in Norden. It’s reassuring to have someone who is even a little familiar with the lay of the land.”

The 203rd’s commander was said to have a distinctive personality, but if she had to be sorted into the groups “useful” or “not,” she was certainly a part of the former. That made her just the type that he could afford to push hard as a game piece.

“All right. I’ll make the arrangements right away.”

“Thanks. Here’s to the hope that we win.”

A glass was raised.

“Then here’s to the hope the food here improves.”

The return toast made them both wince.

“I think the war’ll end first.”

“You’re probably right.”

Though grimacing, they stayed faithful to the basic soldiering principle of eating whenever a chance presented itself. That said, neither hid the fact that they would rather dine elsewhere.