“Liberator”
NOVEMBER 15, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, THE COMMONWEALTH EMBASSY IN MOSKVA, MILITARY EXCHANGE RECEPTION VENUE
The Imperial and Federation Armies were focused on weathering the winter, leaving the front lines relatively quiet; meanwhile, those in the rear had long been plotting with an eye toward what would happen after winter ended.
Unlike the skirmishes on the front lines, these were plots where the boundaries between friend and foe weren’t so clear.
But it should probably be said…
Unlike the conventional battles where they suffered crushing defeats at the hands of the Imperial Army, the Communist Party had far more know-how when it came to conspiracies and scheming.
The party executives may have been reluctant, but they still admitted that the Imperial Army was an unsurpassable instrument of violence, precise beyond belief. But at the same time, the party members chuckled to themselves.
The Empire knows how to make a machine for violence. And they know how to use it. Though it was shameful, the party executives had to accept that.
And yet, the party elites could declare with confidence that it was all the Empire could do.
War is only an extension of politics. And on that point, the Communist Party presidium was sure the Empire was making a fatal mistake.
“It’s the Imperial Army driving the war. Apparently, the military has begun to dominate politics in the Empire,” it was murmured, and how cleverly, at the party meeting. This was the presidium’s collective impression. The military is only a means to political ends.
Even faced with receding front lines, the party executives were still calm enough to boast. After all, they were sure that the Imperial Army was a bunch of idiots who acted on a purely military perspective.
Military might is but a single factor. Power, control, and government are necessarily a fusion of violence and politics.
“The politicians have fallen silent, and the bourgeoisie have begun fighting the war for their own aims. I see they can build a formidable army, yes. But while they may know how to defeat enemies, they don’t seem to know how to make allies.”
Why should the Communist Party be afraid of an enemy whose army treats war as an extension of military matters and completely lacks political perspective?
Surely history will bring an inevitable victory to the party and the fatherland, as well as Communism.
That was their rock-solid conviction.
So then…
“To meeting new friends!”
“To the military cooperation of our two glorious nations!”
Candid toasts rang out at the Commonwealth Embassy in Moskva.
Waiters served caviar and vodka, an orchestra invited for the occasion gracefully performed both countries’ anthems, and well-dressed visitors talked among themselves in whatever way they preferred. It was an elegant social space, no less luxurious than before the war. The only thing signaling that this wasn’t peacetime was the presence of impeccably outfitted honor guards and soldiers proudly sporting their dress uniforms.
But that was appropriate for the nature of the occasion. This was a banquet to celebrate the establishment of their wartime pact to expand cooperation and prohibit any separate peace agreements with the Empire. The diplomats calmly chatted over colorful glasses of deceit and hypocrisy filled with their shared interests.
“…They don’t have any allies. Does the Imperial Army mean to fight against the entire world to the last corpse?”
“It’s absurd, but I think they’re halfway serious. They give plenty of thought to winding up their punches, at least. After that… Well, you know.”
The men suppressed their guffaws.
“You’re exactly right. They still can’t escape the idea that everything can be solved through military might.”
“Ha-ha-ha. Well, I’m relieved if that’s how the Federation sees things, too. Let’s hit that powerful Empire with the truth—that they aren’t strong enough to take on the whole world.”
It was an exchange that blended empty words with each side’s requests. But when it came to directness, the Federation was capable of speaking without affectation.
“Yes, let’s. And we’d appreciate it ever so much, then, if you would establish a second front. As friends, we need to help each other out,” the man added—expressing, albeit as sarcastic inquiry, Where are your ground forces? This was the Federation’s explicit expression of their wish for the Commonwealth to carry more of the burden.
Yet they wouldn’t be able to call themselves diplomats if that little bit of sarcasm made them flinch.
“I’ll make sure to tell the key players back in Londinium.” Even a child could be sent on an errand. What government funds asked of diplomats involved much more wordplay. “But even at home, we’re currently fighting a major air battle. We would love to be able to defend our fatherland and also help out our brothers-in-arms, but there are so many tricky issues involved…” The Commonwealth diplomat who nodded in heartfelt sympathy added dramatically that they were having problems.
“Issues?”
“Yes.” He casually showered the Federation diplomat in snark. “We can’t neglect air cover for the convoy supporting the Federation, either. Why, just the other day, one of our ships that wasn’t safely under our air defense umbrella suffered terrible damages in an attack at one of your naval bases. Considering that, things are a bit difficult…”
After implying with that jab that helping out the Federation was causing its own problems, he feigned nonchalance and called to a waiter in a deliberately sunny voice.
We don’t have a grudge against you! was what he implied…but he could interact with such ease now precisely because the Federation owed them one.
But the Federation diplomat wasn’t a child who would get flustered and run out of words to say. Beneath his smiling mask, he heaved a conspicuous sigh, prepared to retort. “Well, we’re holding down the ground lines as the sole representatives of all the allied countries, you know. It’s a terrible shame we don’t have enough hands.”
“So I guess that goes for both of us. We’re in a very similar situation…” But in response to that biting reply, the Commonwealth diplomat gravely nodded. His brief comment took the end of the Federation diplomat’s words and transformed their meaning. “Not only did we lure the formidable Imperial Air Fleet to the west and protect our homeland, we’re also operating a support convoy for an ally country—fighting deadly battles all the while against patrolling imperial submarines, at that. The burdens on us are just so big, you see…”
“I understand those difficult circumstances, but don’t forget that we’re taking on the imperial ground forces almost entirely on our own.”
“Of course, it’s precisely with our ally nation’s hard work in mind that we launched the support convoy. We’re risking a crisis in homeland air defense in order to have escorts flying along the route! Our soldiers are bending over backward. My heart aches for them, but if it will save our ally…”
“My! I was just thinking the same thing. It must be because we’re luring the enemy’s main forces away from our ally.”
“Ha-ha-ha.” They both laughed, inwardly cursing, and shook hands. It was a peaceful, diplomatic exchange.
Though they attempted to conceal it with flowery language, what the men from both countries really felt was this: Your country should be stepping up to take more of the brunt.
And their frank assessment of each other was: We can’t trust that these guys mean well. Yet, they found a common interest in the fight against the Empire.
So as experts in politics and diplomacy, they could be sure that despite the vast differences between the Commonwealth and the Federation and their deep-seated distrust of each other, circumstances could arise that would allow them to cooperate on this one thing, the fight against the Empire. That was how sure they were that the Empire knew nothing about politics.
If a leader who paid even a little attention to the diplomatic and political situation had been at the Empire’s helm, it would never have been besieged from all sides like this.
If the Empire had taken advantage of the Commonwealth’s and Federation’s traditional discord, would the two countries have even managed to create a superficial alliance against a common enemy? Actually, if it hadn’t gone ahead with the Northern Expansion Doctrine, the Republic never would have had to enter the fight, and the whole war could have been avoided in the first place.
In other words, the Empire was digging its own grave.
After observing, hypothesizing, and verifying, the party executives, who were specialists in politics and conspiracy, were able to believe it wholeheartedly as a logical conclusion: The Imperial Army is only capable of comprehending war from a military point of view.
Of course, victory would be costly.
Still, with General Winter’s support, the land of Mother Federation would stop the Empire. Then time would solve things.
Their firm belief was that due to the Empire’s mistakes, victory was certain.
Until Loria, head of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs, called an emergency meeting of the presidium, that is.
“Comrade, you said there’s an emergency?”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary. Something has occurred that needs to be handled immediately.”
“And that is?”
“…The Imperial Army has…”
It was rare for Loria, and out of character, to trail off. And he had never let his eyes glance around the room like that before.
“The Imperial Army has joined forces.” Getting a look that asked, With? he hesitantly spoke again. “Yes, with…them.”
“Comrade, who did the Imperial Army join forces with?”
A direct question from the General Secretary himself. A query from the very top was enough to make a man tremble, yet an officer of Loria’s caliber failed to reply.
That alone was a sign of bad news.
Someone perceptive may have noticed—that the head of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs, Loria, that devil in human’s clothing, was terrified.
“They’ve shown signs of joining forces with the separatists… A provisional government has been established in their occupied territory, and they’ve begun the process of transitioning to a civilian administration.”
He seemed to have braced himself, and the next words came. The moment everyone heard them, they had trouble comprehending what the small man before their eyes was saying.
“Listen, comrades. The Imperial Army is…in the process of forming an alliance with the separatists. Yes, the nationalists and the Empire have joined hands.”
His report lacked energy, which was rare for Loria. He didn’t even try to hide his despair but relayed the news in a shaking voice.
A curtain of silence had nearly fallen on the room when, finally, a few people’s brains belatedly began to understand what the report meant.
The trash calling for separation from the Federation and the invading Imperial Army were both simple obstacles to the party. Luckily, the plan was to have them kill each other.
After all, the violent machine of the Imperial Army, incapable of compromise, and the nationalists who had no intention of bowing to anyone were sure to get along horribly. In fact, Loria and the rest of the Communist Party executives expected it to be excellent PR.
…The Imperial Army as tyrant and the Federation Army as liberator was to be a great attack in the propaganda war.
And they thought it would be perfect precisely because of the people’s wavering faith in the party.
They needed to convince the masses they were on the theoretically correct side. The plan was to sell them the dream, but the damn Empire turned out to be surprisingly unsporting.
“We should probably assume that the Imperial Army’s—the Empire’s—policy has done a one-eighty. I’m repeating myself, but this report is nearly a sure thing. It seems the Imperial Army and the separatists are building very close relations.”
But the idea was supposed to be that the more the Imperial Army rampaged on its “war of suppression” or whatever against the partisan activity, the more the separatists would hate the Empire and cling to the Federation.
Instead they were joining forces?
Not even just that but transitioning to civilian rule?
“As head of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs, I must warn you. The Imperial Army is coming to destroy our ethnic policy.”
This would overturn their very foundation.
No, worse than that.
Several people stood up, seemingly without thinking. They stared at Loria with eyes wide open, and the moment he nodded at them to say, It’s true, they all began to shout.
“…They’re helping the separatists transition to their own administration?!”
Shocked screams echoed throughout the room.
“Of all the—!”
“It can’t be!”
“Are you sure there’s no mistake?!”
Though bewildered, the ones who all shouted denials were the veteran party leaders. Even the ones who had fought through the hard times were distraught.
Wow, their exclamations have no individuality and intelligence, thought Loria with a wince. Do extreme situations somehow limit the verbal abilities of humans?
On the other hand, he did understand. It was no wonder. With a heavy expression, he turned to the General Secretary and held out the latest report. “Comrade General Secretary, please take a look at this.”
The report had several pages. It was so dangerous, it couldn’t be copied. The Federation would be in trouble if it couldn’t get the Imperial Army to be cruel invaders.
No, it wasn’t even a hypothetical at this point.
If this was true, then their multiethnic state was being undermined in the present tense.
The only way to maintain support for the Communist Party was to fight tolerance with tolerance.
If they were to be more permissive about nationalism than ever before, that might be one way to encourage resistance against the Empire.
But once the presidium reached that idea in their contemplations, they had to reject it. It would be an utter nightmare.
“The situation is dire.”
“So there’s no mistake, Comrade Loria?”
“No, Comrade General Secretary. The data in the report has been screened very carefully.”
The most that would be allowed in their multiethnic state was affirmative action. Generosity on par with the Empire’s, featuring unconditional praise of nationalism, would be tantamount to the destruction of the Federation. Or maybe the party would even collapse and Communism’s cause would be undermined.
“…Hmm. Are you sure you can trust the source?”
“It’s based on reports from our undercover agent and political officers. We did our best to verify and guarantee its accuracy.” Am I keeping my voice even superficially calm? It was hard even for Loria. “The data from both sides matched. All the reports strongly suggest that the Empire and the separatists have formed a political alliance.” So he stated it firmly. “There is no room for doubt.”
All the indications the Commissariat for Internal Affairs was able to acquire pointed to the truth that the two supposedly hostile countries were now beginning to work together.
The shock at that moment was such that even Loria could hardly believe the conclusion. But there were too many signs that this was reality to ignore it. The greatest proof was the emergency rescue request that had come in from a partisan unit like a scream.
They should have been swimming in a sea of the people, but the staggering news was that they were being wiped out.
The results of the follow-up investigation were even more distressing.
The ones on the ground with the mission to wipe out the partisans weren’t from the Imperial Army but a peacekeeping unit. And when they looked into it further, it was the local peacekeeping unit with support from the Imperial Army!
At that point, it became apparent that there was an alliance. They had to acknowledge it.
“There is a dramatic change taking place within the Imperial Army.”
The pure violence machine had sprouted a bud of political context comprehension. And it was growing at a terrifying rate.
The roots were surely too deep, so it was too late to nip it.
The Empire was learning to see from the viewpoint of politics. The hard-core military state was building on its past experiences. That was more of a threat than if the violence machine had received fifty reinforcement divisions.
Failing to notice early signs of these qualitative changes was a serious mistake. So Loria had to accept the reproachful looks from the now pale-faced participants in the meeting.
“…But the change is too fast. We thought we knew the Imperial Army, but perhaps the extreme circumstances of war have enabled a rapid transformation?”
Riding in his car through the streets of Moskva, Loria thought to himself.
At its root, the crisis before us is the impossibility of our nation’s structure to maintain its legitimacy.
No matter how much they went on about the “evil invaders” from the Empire…if the nationalists happily defected to the Imperial Army’s side, the Federation would be a laughingstock, howling in vain. He could easily envision the worst-case scenario. A journalist from a third nation would surely be the trigger.
They would figure out of their own accord that the nationalists were siding with the Empire and write an article. Even just denying that one article would require a massive amount of work.
“Most pressingly…our image abroad is horrible.”
The gazes directed toward the Communist Federation from the governments on the West Side were terribly cold. Publicly, they proclaimed that they were companions in a joint struggle, but he was sure that inside, they didn’t feel even the faintest flicker of friendship.
We joined hands only reluctantly in order to combat our immensely powerful enemy, the Empire.
Even the Communist Party had that one point in common with the West Siders. Suppressing their antipathy, they had pretended to join up with a capitalist nation they didn’t trust.
In a nutshell, the two powers were connected only by shared interests. The two sides were shaking hands against a devil they were desperate to ruin.
“They probably hope that we and the Empire will take each other out. If I were in their place, I would happily do the same thing. Shit. I had to put up with those annoying nightmares, and this is what I get?”
Son of a bitch. Loria heard his own voice arguing back in his head.
Facing its powerful neighbor, the Empire, would be a catastrophic crisis for the Federation no matter when it happened.
Comrade General Secretary’s decision to start the war as a preventative measure was valid.
But from a national defense perspective, we should have done whatever it took to avoid this nightmare: a confrontation with the Empire, reining in the center of the continent after toppling neighboring countries with its martial power.
“We were prepared to bear the brunt.”
The problem is that those multidirectional warmongers really are good at war, if nothing else.
Their army, which should have far outnumbered the Imperial Army, was crushed by the counterattack in the blink of an eye. The more Loria investigated, the more he was forced to realize that these neighbors were too dangerous.
“…And we are left without allies…for now.”
In a crisis, you want lots of friends. Unfortunately, in the classroom of international society, the Federation was the poor, lonely child ostracized by the others.
Be that as it may, we can’t mistake our situation.
Surely, it wasn’t inconceivable to gain friendship if they worked for it. In other words, friendship was attainable. The search for new friends was not a lost cause.
“Let’s have the wonderful friend we call public opinion work for us. Isn’t democracy simply marvelous?”
Even if he appealed to the emotions of this logical government devoted to raison d’état, all he would get out of it would be lip service.
But… Loria smiled a genuine smile as if he had located his enemy’s weakness.
“So far, throwing in idealists seems to be going well… Even if we can’t fool the diplomats, we can get the soldiers and the amateurs. It’s too great.”
There were countless people with bad impressions of the Federation, but surely they would begin to hesitate when they noticed the disparity between that image and the soldiers and party members from the Federation they actually met.
That psychological gap was the key to the Federation’s propaganda strategy.
The more intelligent and sincere a person was, the more likely they were to interpret their situation as I was prejudiced, without any extra help.
“Yes, employing idealists as political officers is so useful.”
Idealists got respect not for their ability but for their personality. Once they gained some experience, they were perfect.
But an idealist made a great story even if all they did was die holding their position. Just showing them carrying out their duty could have an effect.
“The people of the Federation are so inspiring, heroic, and devoted. Let’s make idealists into martyrs by the dozen. We’ll make them saints of the Communist mythology.”
Everyone likes heroes.
Everyone loves honest people.
Everyone respects sincere warriors.
Walking Federation PR machines devoted to their ideals, so noble and good. Lately, there was no end to Loria’s love for idealists.
They were the secret weapon that would secure the West Side’s wonderful public opinion as a friend for the Federation.
If the Empire is going to team up with Federation separatists, then we’ll firmly join hands with the West Side.
“It might be fun to see which friend is stronger. Oh, how interesting.”
This was war—a competition for swindlers to see how well they could manipulate people by concealing their dirty intentions with empty fluff.
Let’s speak of ideals. We’ll praise the public-facing attitudes. And then we’ll compete—to see who gains more popular support. Let’s have a clash of trivial appearances and facades.
Everyone loves beautiful things. I’ll give you illusions if you want them so badly.
I’ll hand out dreams.
“Ha-ha-ha, does that make me Daddy-Long-Legs, then?”
Kind, gentle Daddy Loria probably. Quite the buffoon, no?
“Or maybe Santa Claus. Ha-ha-ha, this is delightful. Either one seems fun. I guess I’ll be delivering hope, dreams, and beautiful fantasies.”
Idealists deliver illusions and mirages.
Since I’m the one managing them, does that make me chief of the post office? No, no, I should be a bit more elaborate and call myself the Santa Claus of Hope.
Ohhh. There Loria had second thoughts.
“No, attractive men and women are more popular. They would probably be easier to use.”
It was clear that to hand out beautiful dreams, it would be best for beloved, beautiful people to drive propaganda.
Considering his own appearance objectively, he reorganized his plan.
I should definitely not be public facing. Loria laughed at himself. He had no intention of getting so foolishly carried away by the urge to be the center of attention that he couldn’t make that judgment.
“To think the day would come that my screening process for political commissars would be searching for idealism with an emphasis on looks… Life sure is unpredictable.”
That’s what makes it interesting, though. Every day is full of new discoveries… Is this what they call rejuvenation?
But he wasn’t averse to admitting that not everything about it was good.
He couldn’t help but get turned on.
On that point, he found an awful lot to regret about his personal tastes, and it was hard not to get discouraged.
For example, take the communications officer he dispatched to the Commonwealth Army, Liliya Ivanova Tanechka. What a tragic waste. Ten years earlier, I would have wanted to make her unclouded eyes glaze over, make her breath ragged…
“Why does everyone have to ripen beyond my tastes…?”
Sadly, by the time he met her, it was too late.
“They say love is once in a lifetime, but I guess you can’t take these sayings from the Far East lightly. Each meeting should be dear to your heart.”
Loria had also been taught not to cry over spilled milk.
Which was why, with renewed determination, Loria smiled.
“Wait for me, my fairy. I’ll catch you; I’m sure of it.”
This time, this time I won’t let her go. Standing by while this supreme flower wilts would be the greatest folly in all of history—I can’t do it.
Beautiful things must be appreciated while they are beautiful.
I have no doubt that that is my most important duty.
NOVEMBER 24, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, THE EASTERN FRONT
When Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff receives the message, she is so impressed she bursts out laughing.
What a splendidly devious move the General Staff has come up with.
Honestly, the approach itself is classic. Even cliché. But it’s also rare to have a plan that so precisely grasps the enemy’s weakness and takes advantage of one’s own strength.
To the Federation, this will surely be a more terrifying attack than a million-bullet volley.
“Gentlemen, a notice from the General Staff. Remember this: Apparently, we’re going to liberate the minorities suppressed by the Federation.”
In response to her good news, the officers are silent and tense, seemingly confused.
“We’re going to liberate them?” First Lieutenant Serebryakov sounds as if she can’t quite believe it.
“As a means to some end?” First Lieutenant Grantz, for his part, can’t seem to hide his skepticism. That’s the typical attitude of an experienced soldier toward any public-facing statement that seems impossible to make.
I suppose you could call it being respectful while keeping your distance?
Major Weiss is the only one maintaining a wise silence… The others are nodding in agreement.
Sheesh. Tanya feels compelled to despair.
These guys know combat, but they don’t know anything about politics. This is precisely the problem with them.
No matter how much you win, it’s meaningless unless you can use that victory politically. That’s the absolute truth, but these guys have a tendency to forget it completely.
No—to be fair, the intense combat on the eastern front doesn’t give them much time to remember.
That’s not uncommon in war, though.
“As Lieutenant Grantz says, perhaps it’s a propaganda effort? No one would actually believe it. But they might pretend to.”
“That’s a very interesting opinion, Captain Ahrens, but what’s the basis for it?”
“The people here. I’m sure if we started losing, they would raise the flag of the enemy,” the captain spits.
That’s probably the general view on the front lines. I have no doubt that anyone who has served in the east would agree right away. Objectively speaking, it’s a rule of thumb that is hard to deny.
Everyone is forced to be aware of the reality that many kiss the hand they wish to cut off.
Two different types of nations make the most suitable example.
“You mean how every house has both the Federation and imperial flags?”
“Yes, you know about that, right, Colonel?”
“Taking the side of the victor, even superficially, is simply the wisdom necessary to survive for these people caught in a war. Blaming them is a waste of effort.”
I get why Captain Ahrens is angry. But Tanya thinks it’s like going about your sales approach in the wrong way.
Like being upset that skis won’t sell in the desert.
“Theoretically, the General Staff’s proposal makes sense. Eliminating some enemies with words alone can’t be a bad deal.”
“That’s for sure. But getting called a liberator puts me on edge.”
“I feel the same way. Sorry, Colonel…”
While some imperial soldiers apparently take the title of liberator seriously at first… It’s hard to call someone a friend if you’re not sure they’ll stay your friend once the rain starts falling.
They’ve probably seen the imperial flag abandoned in tough times.
Captain Ahrens and Major Weiss, having seen that happen, must realize immediately that they aren’t being welcomed as liberators.
“It’s not that I don’t understand, Major Weiss. But the higher-ups have defined us as liberators. And they have a great idea to go along with it.”
“…I hope for once it’s actually a good idea.”
“Put your mind at ease, Major. I guarantee this one.”
You may go in calling yourselves liberators, but unless you can sell that idea to the people, the plan will fall apart sooner or later. But if the higher-ups make practical use of politics, you’ll be in a different strategic universe from mere wishful thinking.
We have instructions from Lieutenant General von Zettour. The text from the General Staff proclaiming us liberators has clear meanings between the lines.
You can read it as “divide and conquer.” As gears in the machine, we have to get moving.
Thus, Tanya declares in a stern voice, “Setting aside whether you agree with it or not, here’s your notice. This applies to officers at every level, no exceptions. From now on, ‘accidents’ involving civilians in our jurisdiction must be dealt with more properly.”
These many citizens simply want to preserve their normal lives. The reason they want to turn on us is…most often misconduct by occupying units. Those horrible mistakes only feed the guerrillas and benefit the enemy.
“Considering there might be some damn numbskulls who don’t understand, a test. Major Weiss, you get it, right?”
“Yes, of course! You mean you want us to treat issues the same as we would if we were garrisoned in the home country?”
Well. Tanya smiles. I don’t need to worry about Weiss.
“What?! It’s not orders to cover up carelessness?”
But she got some dramatic reactions from the idiots who apparently still didn’t understand… It’s so perfectly in line with her expectations that Tanya’s concerned.
First Lieutenant Tospan gapes at her as he blurts out unbelievable nonsense.
The instructor who passed him in the academy should probably be culled. How did they even manage to get him through? I’d love to ask someone.
“Lieutenant Tospan, Major Weiss has stated my intentions correctly. A soldier’s misconduct will be treated as the officer’s misconduct. This is an occupation. Learn the art of administering occupied territory… Even if it’s a mask, we’re expected to act as liberators.”
“But how will we prevent espionage?”
The idiots are warbling again. I really can’t handle the ones who are not only incompetent but don’t even realize it. Perhaps, as the old saying goes, industrious idiots should be shot.
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Huh?!”
“Deception, disguise, information warfare. It’s what you officers are here for, right? Or can’t you do any work unless you’re holed up in no-man’s-land?” Enduring a headache, Tanya flatly rejects Tospan’s objection.
Still, internally, she feels gloomy. The reason is simple: She has been forcibly reminded once again that the commander of the majority of her forces, the infantry, is inept.
As long as the numbskull captain who was supposed to be commanding, Thon, is MIA, she has no choice but to leave the troops up to Tospan, but…can he really command them?
For better or worse, he’s the type to follow directions; she knows that much. So she was convinced that if she gave clear orders, things would work out.
I thought he would do what he was told as a matter of course… But then Tanya realizes the truth.
If someone is too stupid to understand the orders, how do you command them? She never imagined there would be such a moron among the officer ranks. This is the definition of frightening.
The thought that pops into her head is to get rid of him.
On the other hand, even this guy is a precious human resource. Wouldn’t it be more productive to find a use for him? But considering the lost opportunity cost, maybe my only choice is to shoot him.
“…Colonel, I understand what you’re trying to say, but…”
“But you think there’s a limit on how courteous we can be to the unpredictable masses?”
“Please consider the stress on the men. Can we really expect them to smile and act like they would at home when they’re worried they could be shot at any moment?”
Her thoughts had nearly started circling, but now they snap back to reality. The question was asked with a sober expression, and she nods her understanding.
“Captain Meybert, that’s a good point, but…” She smiles. “That issue will be cleared up momentarily.”
“I beg your pardon, Colonel.”
“Yes?”
“Could you please define momentarily for me?”
I suppose it’s an artillerist’s instinct to request concrete numbers.
The attitude of removing any traces of confusion or doubt regarding your superior’s remarks is…actually one I approve of.
“That’s a good question, Captain Meybert.”
It’s infinitely better than subordinates who interpret things however they see fit. She’s even more thankful, after Tospan’s idiocy, that she can trust Meybert not to do anything stupid. Tanya gives him a clear response.
“More specifically, ‘right away.’”
“Huh?”
“Seeing is believing. Well, I guess in this case, it’s ‘hearing.’ That’s the end of this debate. Anyone who is free, come with me.”
From every single blankly staring officer issues the simple question, lacking so much as a hint of creativity or individuality.
“““Where?”””
“Isn’t it obvious?” Tanya smiles. She points to the living room they’re using as a dining hall. “Let’s turn on the radio. General von Zettour will be giving a delightful address at noon sharp. Oh,” she adds. “We can have lunch, too. Do you guys have time?”
THE SAME DAY, IMPERIAL OCCUPIED TERRITORY IN THE EAST
“This is Lieutenant General Hans von Zettour speaking on behalf of the Imperial Army.”
Distrust, suspicion, curiosity, or disinterest?
Most of the listeners were a crowd who had been told only that this address was an “important announcement.” But that was enough to get them to stop and listen.
It was no wonder. A lieutenant general from the Imperial Army, impressive in his type I dress uniform, was up on a dais surrounded by nationalist group leaders.
“Dear listeners, I have something to tell you: We are fighting together against a common enemy—that is, the red menace.”
So Zettour made his topic clear from the start. We, the Empire and the nationalists, are not enemies.
This prefatory remark made his position clear and plainly indicated where his speech would go.
Still, that much had been said numerous times in imperial occupied territory as part of their pacification efforts.
With such lukewarm remarks, he would never gain their trust. Which was why he carefully packaged the poison in pretty, empty words.
“What the Empire wishes is clear. All we want is peace and stability for our fatherland.”
People prioritized who was talking over what was being said. That was why Zettour made his appearance alongside the nationalist leaders.
To show people the sight of them standing together.
He inhaled, as if catching his breath, in order to create a pause. The moment he saw his words had sunk in, Zettour continued.
“The Empire does not wish for war. We—I do not wish for war. And yet the sad reality is that war continues. So I—we wish for hope. The Empire wishes for hope.” And he looked to the men behind him, as if talking to friends, as he continued, “Just like you, I am a person who wishes for peace and calm.”
The men nodded—slight motions, but they did nod.
And that was enough to serve as the trigger.
He was sure that the distance between the audience and him had shrunk.
“Peace! Peace! Peace! If not for the red menace, would any of us have taken up arms?” I’ll reach out to them like I’m discussing the truth with friends. “Truly, that is the fundamental reason we were forced to arm ourselves until today. For ages, nations have required border guards to protect their own from approaching evils.”
I’ll make this so lovely and sincere sounding that I even fool myself.
“We simply follow our proud, noble forerunners in this endeavor. We’ll continue fighting the threat of the red menace for as long as need be.”
So though he knew it was the work of the devil, he lit a fire of hope for the people who wanted to secede from the Federation.
In the east, they needed depth. They didn’t have the leisure of being picky about how it was achieved. If Zettour wanted to go about it with clean hands, his only choice was to pray to God. Launching another counterattack would take time, so he had to dissemble for the sake of the Reich.
“But we have only taken up our swords to protect ourselves.”
Easy now. A breath and a moment of silence to make sure his words were reaching all his listeners. When the time seemed right, he began to say the words he had so carefully calculated.
“Of course, we want to run to the aid of our fatherland in crisis. But once peace is restored, all we wish is to lay down our arms and return home. I myself am a resident of the Reich who, like Cincinnatus, only wants to go home to his farm and till the soil of the Heimat.”
Dreams are pointless.
The soldier Hans von Zettour is smart enough to understand that he would probably never be permitted such stability—such peaceful, satisfying days.
Yet I’ll be that contemptible man who encourages those impossible dreams despite understanding their absurdity.
“And so I declare in the name of the Reich that we do not demand land; our earnest, heartfelt desire is to coexist with independent peoples who have their own land and sovereignty.”
The Federation was a multiethnic state where many peoples were gathered under Communism. But how many of them joined the Federation of their own volition?
How many were staying with the Federation because they wanted to?
The various peoples had tasted enough of the truth under this harsh rule—the truth behind the grand propaganda—to make them sick.
The reaction when they woke from the dream and realized the ideals they had been shown were beautiful illusions was extremely intense. Having been caught up in the great social experiment, the candid wish of these people was to escape the faded yoke of Communism.
So Zettour was able to speak with a kind of conviction.
“We have no intention of annexing the occupied territories. I understand the powerful love we all have for our homes.”
There was nothing false about this principle.
“…Who doesn’t have feelings about their fatherland?”
If there’s a crisis, I’ll go running. I’ve been prepared for that ever since I was commissioned.
“Who doesn’t have feelings about their hometown?”
Zettour knew it wasn’t for him to hope for a peaceful future when this was all over. He was an adult whose efforts in this war had resulted in piles of young corpses.
Win or lose, he could only do his duty.
“Our home countries, our land, our hometowns…”
But he refused to regret it. He swore to defend the Empire, the Reich, the country he loved, to the bitter end. And to that end, he would fight, pouring the youths of the country into a war of attrition, that absurd waste of human life, and he would win.
What a fucked-up job.
To protect our country, we put the children we should be defending through a meat grinder.
How incredibly absurd. Children paying the price because the adults don’t have a plan! It shouldn’t be allowed. If there’s such a thing as purgatory, we’ll never find out. I’m sure we’ve reserved our seats on the express to hell.
“The people behind us, the future of our children, the stability of our nations—all this is on our shoulders.”
So Zettour raised his sonorous voice and appealed to the audience’s emotions.
Everyone wished.
They wished for their hometowns to be peaceful. They wished for the people to be at peace. And ultimately, they wished for a peaceful future for their children.
“Just like Horatius on the bridge, we know we must stand our ground. Our future isn’t so cheap that we would simply give it away to the red menace.”
So they wished.
“Today, as of this moment, I, as representative of the Imperial Army, declare the military district to be under civilian authority. I hope the future of the Reich and our good neighbors will be a bright one.”
Even Horatius didn’t defend the bridge alone. He had reliable friends standing with him. They must have known what their fate would be.
“My good neighbors, I have a favor to ask of you. The difficulties ahead are the same for both of us, so I urge you to please, for the children’s future, stand on the bridge alongside us. Friends!” he called to them. In front of their leaders, he acted as if he was one of them. “Please let us fight…for the future…”
I’ll trail off, overcome with emotion, and give them a good manly cry. With tears in his eyes, Zettour straightened up and looked around.
The venue was full of passionate stares focused on him. Until now, the audience had been silent, but here came a moan that couldn’t be put into words.
He had their emotions where he wanted them.
Looking around the room, he gathered as many eyes on him as possible, breathed deeply to steady himself, and traded his Logos for that ticket to hell.
I’ll go ahead and despise myself. Oh, Hans von Zettour, you’ve become an honest liar in the interests of your country.
“I cannot give you orders. And I can’t even really make a request and feel good about it. So as one of your neighbors, I suppose all that is left is to bow my head and hope.”
But that’s why I’m begging.
For the fatherland’s future.
“I beg you, as a good neighbor. I hope that as fellow warriors standing shoulder to shoulder on the bridge, and as brothers who will share the bread of peace together one fateful day, you will allow us to walk with you.”
Do these people I’m egging on know what’s in store?
Maybe they think they do. But without having seen all the corpses of children or having heard the now all-too-familiar wails of the bereaved, it may not even be possible to understand.
As a good individual, I grieve so much: Is this all really necessary?
As an evil member of an organization, I accept it: yes.
We must hold the defensive lines until road conditions stabilize. That’s what the General Staff decided. Regardless of my own opinion, the orders came down.
It was possible to object and counter until the decision was made, but…once a major policy was decided, there was no longer any room for debate. The only thing to do was carry it out with all one’s might.
I’ve got to execute, thought Zettour self-deprecatingly.
With this ineptitude, I couldn’t find any other way. Lieutenant General Hans von Zettour, feeling deeply alone, could only snap bitterly.
So hell begets hell. Fuck me.
(The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Volume 5: Abyssus Abyssum Invocat, fin)
Appendixes: Mapped Outline of History
Afterword
To everyone who picked up Volume 5, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. To the heroes who bought all of the volumes through 5 at once, nice to meet you. I’m Carlo Zen.
This came out later than planned, but I would appreciate it if you would believe me when I say, “I wasn’t slacking off! I was doing my best!” …There’s going to be a manga and a TV anime!
By the powers of a great many people combined, plans for a manga (Chika Tojo’s doing it!) and anime are in the works.
Back in 2013 when I said how brave Enterbrain is, I never dreamed all this would happen.
So you’re a hero of heroes, huh, Enterbrain…?
No, maybe I should have foreseen it to some extent. Every time I had a meeting with them, I did sense this pretty heroic aura.
Yes, it was…a peaceful holiday afternoon. When I lumbered out to an event—a meeting—what I saw before me was a café where sophisticated people drink tea.
It was a cheerful meeting. After having the “Do a bit more xx; make it xx” (censored) conversation, we discussed the manga, the anime, my new book, and whatnot.
If you’re not going to call that heroic, then what will you?
And so, though I can’t quite believe it, there are manga and anime projects starting up…I think? I’m reflecting on how lucky I am to have the support of so many people.
And now I must extend my thanks once again to everyone who has helped me out.
A warm thank-you to Tsubakiya Design for the design, Tokyo Shuppan Service Center for the proofreading, my editor Fujita, and to the illustrator who always does such wonderful illustrations, Shinotsuki.
And of course, my gratitude goes out to you, the readers supporting me. I hope to see you again next time.
January 2016 Carlo Zen
1 partisan In this context, it means combatants who are not regular enlisted soldiers but members of an irregular militia. Whether they should be referred to as a resistance, terrorists, or freedom fighters is an extremely sensitive issue, so I won’t deal with it here.
2 Grouchy Marshal Emmanuel de Grouchy was Napoleon’s last marshal! The last marshal! It has such a cool ring to it. Except for the part about how he was appointed only because there was no one else…
He was a general who had forces during the Battle of Waterloo but failed to act on his own discretion (meaning he didn’t make his own call and take the optimal action).
One hundred percent adherence to orders isn’t right. What’s right is accomplishing the mission the orders are asking you to. He’s a classic example to bring up during such discussions.
By the way, he was also one of those unlucky types who was actually surprisingly talented but got pummeled in the history books for that one failure.
3 Davout Marshal Louis-Nicolas Davout is known as probably Napoleon’s best marshal.
Not only did his military prowess make Napoleon envious, he displayed prodigious talent in many fields including government and organizational management. Aside from the things that made him a bit too cutthroat of a boss—his uncommon strictness and adherence to the rules, his uncompromising separation of public and private spheres, and his excessive belief in meritocracy—he was perfect.
4 Desaix Like Grouchy, he was on an operation with a detachment, but…when he heard the cannons of the Battle of Marengo, he acted on his own discretion, and his name went down in world history.
Under Napoleon, who was on the brink of defeat, he dashingly rushed forward, shouted, “There is yet time to win another battle!” and charged into the enemy forces. He was a great general who saved Napoleon from defeat and died himself in battle.
5 Pearl Harbor “Let’s cross the entire ocean and attack the U.S. Pacific Fleet at their base!” is easy to say, but actually doing it is nuts.
6 Scapa Flow Scapa Flow is a natural harbor and was a base for the Royal Navy. It was into that well-protected harbor that the German Navy’s U-47, commanded by Günther Prien, penetrated during World War II. It got past the lookouts and sank the battleship Royal Oak that was anchored there. Captain Prien’s greatest enemy wasn’t the Royal Navy’s warning screen, however, but his own boat’s torpedoes. He fired seven at the anchored ship, but five of them malfunctioned… He was furious and said it was like having a “dummy rifle.”
7 Luftwaffe The German air force during World War II.
