Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Sometimes the Truth is the Most Cruel (1)
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Michael's surprise attack report reached the Dolce Republic's garrison commander as well.
The moment he finished reading the report, he hurled the coffee cup from his hand.
"So you're telling me one division got completely played by a mere battalion's raid?! Speak up if you have something to say!"
The innocent staff officer bowed his head at those words.
It was unfair to be yelled at for something that wasn't his fault.
But he fully understood the commander's feelings a hundred—no, a thousand—times over.
Even with a 12- or 13-to-1 advantage in numbers over the enemy, they had been utterly defeated without landing a single blow.
"I'm sorry."
"Does this even make sense? Huh?!"
The commander pulled a bottle of strong liquor from his desk drawer and chugged it straight from the bottle.
No sane four-star general in the Republic would do such a thing.
His mind was backed into such a corner that the reins of reason had loosened.
"800 dead, 400 seriously wounded!"
The commander ground his teeth.
Just thinking about it made his rage boil over.
One battalion had inflicted 800 casualties—no, add the seriously wounded, and 80% of those 400 would either die or lose a limb if they survived.
That meant over 1,200 troops lost.
"And 20% of our supplies destroyed too! What the hell is Brigadier General Antonio doing? That bastard must be an Imperial spy. There's no other explanation for this."
"Commander, sir..."
"Goddamn it! Why do the Imperial bastards fight so dirty and underhanded? Did the Emperor grow up without enough love from his mother?"
No matter the era, insulting the enemy's highest leader's parents was the ultimate compliment.
Michael's achievements had landed a painful, effective blow on the Republic's army—even if not quite fatal—and the commander had just acknowledged it himself.
"Colonel Florence."
"Yes, sir."
"Spread this only to majors and above, and make sure it doesn't leak. No need to lower morale before the real fighting starts."
"I'll issue a gag order to the supply units as well."
"Do that."
Just as people hide their true natures,
armies and nations often conceal bad news while exaggerating even the smallest victories.
A recruit dies from hazing among the troops? 'Died honorably in the line of duty' is what the family hears, and the incident gets buried at the battalion level.
This held true for both the Republic and the Empire.
So the commander decided to issue the usual gag order.
To win the war, there's no choice.
"The troops already hate fighting—no need to feed them bad news."
"Then shall I tell them about our great victory over the Imperial Army last time..."
"Make sure every soldier hears it once a day before bed. And pair it with tales of how the wicked Imperial troops pillaged Republic villages, raped women, and slaughtered them brutally."
To the listeners, it would be a story so repetitive it drilled holes in their ears.
But subconsciously, it would plant the belief that they could beat the Imperials.
And hearing endlessly about women and children massacred would stoke their rage and boost morale.
I'll use whatever works.
"Dismissed."
"Yes, Commander, sir."
Once the staff officer closed the door behind him, the commander glanced at the end of the report again.
There, the name of the madman responsible was written.
"Michael Schumacher."
His teeth ground together.
The man who, despite the Republic's great victory in the last war, had ensured they gained almost no ground.
With just one platoon, he'd held the rear against an entire army in a suicidal stand.
He'd crushed an entire cavalry company, tricking the Imperials into thinking their defensive line was perfectly solid.
"That son of a bitch has tripped us up again. I'll kill him. I swear it."
The commander clenched his fist and ground his teeth.
Our battalion returned straight to headquarters as ordered.
They collected the bonuses I'd distributed after capturing Margery City, and the soldiers who'd punked an enemy division-sized supply unit strutted with pride.
Having received their monetary balm, they showered me with praise unprompted.
"As expected of our nation's hero. He looks after the troops and even fills the pockets of scum like us."
"Someone like the battalion commander should be wearing stars."
"Our sergeant major says that as long as the commander doesn't commit treason, he was always star material."
"Truly impressive."
I pretended not to hear the praise.
No reason to approach and show off how great I was.
But being human,
the unsolicited adulation lightened my steps anyway.
Once I reported back to the division commander, I could rest easy for the day.
"I wrote up the report on the way and sent it ahead."
They would've reviewed it by now, so the return report was just a formality.
I entered the division commander's tent.
"Sir! Major Michael Schumacher reporting the battalion's return."
But it wasn't just one person in front of me.
The division commander stood there, and seated was the Dolce Republic Front Army commander.
The aura of a four-star general.
The shock nearly made me clap my hands over my mouth.
I'd met the Emperor and the field marshal glued to the General Staff headquarters.
I had experience with high brass, but...
Don't pop up where I least expect it.
Even with mental prep, this was too much.
"Sir! Commander, sir!"
"Relax. I'm not here to chew you out."
"Understood, sir."
No one relaxes just because a superior says to.
That'd be as dumb as taking a girlfriend's 'I'm furious, don't contact me today' at face value.
You have to reach out right away and bow your head to calm her down.
Same with brass telling you to ease up? Pure idiocy.
Once the big shot leaves, the fun dressing-down begins.
"I came to inspect the front lines and happened to see your report."
The commander grinned at me—no, beamed broadly.
"One battalion pulling off such splendid work."
"I merely sought the most effective and efficient options in line with the division commander's orders."
"...Something only possible because the division commander trusted you and granted autonomy? I'll report that to the General Staff."
The corner of the division commander's mouth twitched upward from where he stood behind.
A little deference, and everyone wins.
Admiral Yi Sun-sin knew Ming admiral Chen Lin was greedy, so he hosted lavish banquets and generously shared credit...
And the elder Chen called the younger Yi 'my lord' and trusted him absolutely.
Hog it all, and you're dead.
"Putting that aside, your feats exceeded even what the General Staff hoped for."
"Thank you, sir."
"As you know, our troops still haven't forgotten the last war's crushing defeat or the massacre of nearly 50,000 of ours. That's why the Golden Eagle Medal went to you—the man who led a single platoon to cover our retreat amid that despair and racked up dazzling achievements."
The commander eyed my medal as he spoke.
"The General Staff hoped you'd shine in this war too, bolstering everyone's morale. That's why we issued the rare appointment of a major as battalion commander."
Major battalion commanders were fairly common in the Imperial Army.
Of course, a fresh major like me was unheard of.
Usually, it was majors with six-plus years, often rear-echelon types.
Truly exceptional ones became battalion commanders up front right before lieutenant colonel promotions.
Still, a fresh major in command is unprecedented.
"One battalion raiding a division. Our losses: one dead, two lightly wounded. Enemy kills: estimated 500 minimum, 1,000 maximum. Plus burning their supplies for massive damage. You're a hero of the Empire."
"You're too kind, sir."
"Too much humility is a flaw too."
The commander grinned at me again.
"Your heroic tale will grace the Imperial papers. It'll spread wide among the troops too. Your name will echo across the army once more."
"...Thank you, sir."
I cooled my head.
Better to force calm.
Showing restraint over jumping for joy would earn even higher marks from the brass.
"Want something? Name it—anything but promotion."
The big shot was joking now. Sky-high evaluation.
In this situation, what I needed to do was...
"There's one thing that concerns me, sir."