Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: War on Terror (1)
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Shooting stars are only pretty when viewed from afar.
If one falls near my house, it's nothing but a disaster.
The army's star-studded generals are the same.
Especially this one, who looks extremely displeased for some reason.
"These days, they talk a lot about you at General Staff Headquarters. Everyone brings you up the moment they open their mouths."
If a senior says something like that as if he's worried about me...
It means that person hates me to death for some reason.
Since he can't say directly, "I hate you," he blames others.
But if a high-ranking officer says it with a displeased look?
It means either General Staff really views me poorly, or this guy does.
Or both.
'There's no reason for General Staff to view me poorly, though?'
"The Chief of the General Staff often says things like this. At first, he just thought you were a guy with incredibly good luck relative to your abilities, but now he sees you as the pillar that will uphold the Empire in the future."
"That's too high praise."
"Our Corps Commander also greatly acknowledges your abilities. That's why he made a detour to this battalion on his way to take command of the 5th Corps defending this region."
The Corps Commander handed me the stack of reports in his hand.
A smile formed on his face.
Why was this guy, who looked so displeased at first sight, fluctuating like this?
Did he take the wrong medicine or something?
"To boost the soldiers' morale, we're giving small bonuses and commissioning as non-commissioned officers those who complete training with excellent results. Until now, we only commissioned those who'd earned merits on the battlefield or took in kids from influential merchant families in the cities for training. But we're revising the Imperial Army's NCO commissioning policy from now on."
In the Empire, becoming an officer is like getting into medical school or a top law firm in Korea—a massive status leap.
An NCO is roughly on par with a grade 7 civil servant.
Just a rough guess.
Friends retiring as sergeant majors or master sergeants often end up as school principals or mid-level police and prison administrators.
Unlike societies where studying can propel you from poverty to elite universities.
For ordinary peasants or urban laborers, becoming an NCO is the most realistic shot at the top.
Opening paths to advancement can turn the army from shackles into opportunity.
"We're raising the NCO commissioning rate from active soldiers from 10% to around 20%. We'll set up a system to commission a few each year based on company commander recommendations."
"Thank you."
"And that guerrilla training. This Corps Commander is too old to try it myself, but the staff officers did, and they said it's great for building stamina. We'll do it twice a year at the battalion level."
"Twice a year?"
Imperial soldiers serve three years.
Meaning six rounds before discharge.
Moment of silence for the poor troops' future.
But it'll boost combat power, so grit your teeth and bear it.
"So how did you come up with this idea?"
"I lost my parents young and lived in dire poverty. My father died in the war, and only because I'm the head of the Ritter knightly house did I get into the officer academy."
"You grew up mingling with the slums?"
"Yes."
Automatically admitting war orphans to the academy could spark scandal accusations...
But in the Empire, any man from a baronet family or higher gets in as long as he has arms and legs.
Since status guarantees it, as a hero's son, I attended on full scholarship.
"So among my friends were slum kids and even criminals. One got hanged for stealing bread."
"...A triumph of the human spirit."
"Soldiers are a bit better off than them, but their lives and mindsets aren't all that different. Officers join for honor, but conscripts joke about three years of slavery."
Even 21st-century corporals, paid ten times what Imperial soldiers get, gripe about being state slaves.
The difference? They can save a lump sum via military savings.
"So I just wanted to turn military service into a kind of opportunity for them."
In pre-modern societies, the army was the sole path for commoners to rise.
In Europe, men enlisted for advancement; with luck, they became NCOs.
NCOs enjoyed salaries and status rivaling big-company office jobs.
After retirement, they could join the ranks of local notables.
Sometimes folks even competed to get conscripted.
In the Imperial Japanese Army's better days, rural lads retiring as corporals had life made.
Full-term NCOs often hit supply sergeant rank.
"As expected of a war hero—perspective like no other. Good, moving on."
The Corps Commander stared straight into my eyes.
"You—how are things with my daughter lately?"
"Lina—no, Lieutenant Chaplin? I see her as an outstanding officer who honors the Chaplin name."
"...I see."
The Corps Commander before me was head of the Count Chaplin family.
True, titles no longer meant governing lands like before...
But nobility's weight had dipped only somewhat; a count was still a count.
With a flick of the wrist, he could turn murder or rape arrests into "no charges."
Not a special case like me—he could vaporize a mere battalion commander on a whim.
'And he's a lieutenant general to boot. Nuff said.'
"Lina says she has so much to learn from you, wants to follow you forever."
"Really?"
"Word is you two went alone to a café and shared coffee."
"Yes, she insisted on trying this dessert, so we went together."
Major General Chaplin stared piercingly at my face.
Then he grinned.
He seemed hugely relieved.
"Commendable, looking after your subordinates like that. Alright, chit-chat's over. Leave the battalion here for now and come with Lina."
"Something for me to do?"
"Before my predecessor, Lieutenant General Mankelheim retired, they captured an Ortz Kingdom spy. He was plotting the Empire's overthrow."
"Overthrow the Empire?"
When your money piles up, enemies sprout like cells dividing.
Thieves eyeing your cash, haters sick of your success.
Diplomacy's the same.
The Empire has foes aplenty, but dispatching spies to topple the state outright?
"Spy's name is Emil Nielsen. Won't say affiliation or rank beyond that. Real tough nut."
"You want me to interrogate him personally?"
"I trust you'll handle it. All tortures and temptations failed to crack him."
I'd never interrogated anyone in my life.
Asking me to play cop.
Absurd.
But the army thrives on making impossible possible, FM-ing flawless lies and ruses.
Ordered? Do it.
"If you entrust it, I'll give it my all."
"Good. Pack up and prep to depart by tomorrow."
"Loyalty."
Not long after, I was interrogating Emil Nielsen.
Four fingernails missing, bruises mottling his face.
Yet despite the tortures, his eyes gleamed fiercely.
I stepped out briefly and spoke with the NCO in charge.
"Sergeant Major."
"Yes, Major."
"You went hard on the torture, I see."
"Don't even ask. Every trick in the book, but all he did was groan—never cracked."
Toughest type to break.
Among soldiers and officers, those loud "fierce generals" charging ahead with big mouths? Cowards at heart.
It's a persona to hide the fear.
'I'm not scared! I'm brave!'
They shout it out, act the part to suppress terror.
Those you can pry at with torture.
Silent, stoic endurers? Superhumans beyond fear.
"Understood."
Still, methods exist.
Back in the interrogation room, I poured him a glass of premium whiskey.
"Major Michael Schumacher. Have some whiskey first. Let's just talk nice and easy."