There Is Only One Man for This Operation

"……The Ashen Forest."

The division commander's voice dropped to a murmur, and for a moment the room held its breath.

"Absolutely not."

The chief of staff cut in.

"That terrain is impassable for armor. Dense woodland, swampland—and on top of that, the wild card of surviving orc stragglers."

"And that is precisely the point."

I answered with a knowing smile.

"An obstacle that cannot be crossed. A river that cannot be forded, a hill that cannot be climbed."

And that was exactly why—

"That place is the one route of advance no enemy would ever anticipate."

I looked Falkenhein dead in the eye as I spoke.

"We deceive the enemy, lure them in deep, and then strike at the gap they leave open."

Then I began drawing a bold arrow across the map.

"We split the force into two wings. The left wing, deliberately kept smaller, will loudly stage a defensive stand at Rosenheim to pin down the enemy's main strength."

Slowly, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my pen traced an arrow starting from the 1st Armored Division's position.

"And at that moment—"

A curving line, growing ever longer, slicing straight through the Ashen Forest toward the enemy's rear supply lines.

"…the right wing will execute the envelopment and cut their throats."

What took shape before us was a massive encirclement designed to sever the enemy at the waist.

"…A Kesselschlacht. A battle of encirclement and annihilation."

The staff officers of the 1st Division began to stir.

"Bold words, certainly."

"Pushing through the forest, you say… if it actually worked, I suppose you'd swallow the enemy's 2nd Corps whole."

"The problem is that the word 'actually' is doing a miracle's worth of work in that sentence."

The 7th Brigade's side was just as shaken.

Dietrich, off to one side, fidgeted nervously with his necktie.

Major Helga frowned as her gaze darted between the report in her hands and the operations map on the wall. Her grey eyes narrowed, and her black high ponytail swayed slightly.

The last one my eyes found was Serafina.

It was a formal setting, so she gave nothing away on the surface—but there was an unmistakable faith in me underlying her gaze.

Still, someone like Serafina was one in a thousand.

The prevailing mood was overwhelmingly negative.

"But that plan is far too risky."

"What about supply? You mean to send vehicles into a forest?"

"The breakthrough alone would take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠two weeks, at minimum."

"If the Republic catches wind of it, we're mincemeat before we're halfway through."

"They say cleverness and recklessness are separated by a single sheet of paper."

"Perhaps subduing the Ashen Forest once has made us take it too lightly?"

Skeptical voices erupted from every corner of the room.

Their objections were entirely reasonable. By doctrine, by common sense, and by decades of accumulated military experience, they were right.

"But turning the impossible into the possible—surely that is the measure of a commander."

At my reply, the staff officers began to murmur. Glares of insolence and glances of interest crossed back and forth.

But I paid their reactions no mind whatsoever.

My eyes were fixed on one man alone—Major General Falkenhein, the man with the final say.

It was exactly the same as with Dietrich. This time it wasn't the 7th Brigade but the 1st Armored Division, but—

As long as this was the army, the principle was identical.

Superior commands, subordinate obeys.

For a man who could bend his superiors to his will, there was no better principle in existence.

Charming Speechcraft.

"Your Excellency, General, you are the Emperor's own Captain of the Guard."

I continued, enunciating every word with care.

"Which will it be—to earn the shameful reputation of a man who surrendered victory because he feared the mud? Or to cut ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through treacherous thorns and drive a blade into the enemy's heart, laying it at the feet of the Empire?"

The air in the briefing room went razor-cold in an instant. A mere Captain was treading right up to—and barely over—the very edge of what could be said to a Major General, and not just any Major General, but the Emperor's most trusted confidant. The staff officers' faces drained white.

Status Analysis.

But just as I'd predicted. This man was a warrior to the marrow. He and the safety-minded staff officers were a different breed entirely.

Falkenhein's eyes gleamed.

"…A large-scale encirclement operation, you say."

"Your Excellency. If this operation succeeds, your name will be written into the annals of history. As the magician of maneuver warfare—the man who turned the impossible into the possible."

"…I like it."

He slammed his fist down on the desk. A heavy, muffled thud rang through the room.

"I approve this operation. Just as Captain Jaeger proposes, we will force the crossing of the Ashen Forest."

"Your Excellency—!"

"I will hear no objections."

The chief of staff half-rose from his seat, but Falkenhein cut him off with a single stroke.

"……Phew."

The chief of staff ground his lips together. His gaze flicked rapidly between the operations map, my face, and the division commander's expression.

Presently, he set down the command baton he'd been holding and picked up a pen instead. If one could not disobey orders, then executing them with maximum efficiency was a staff officer's duty.

Opening the document folder, he turned to me.

"We'll need a record. What shall we call the operation when we wire it to Army Command?"

You proposed it, so name it yourself—that was the meaning.

I answered without a moment's hesitation. There was no reason not to borrow a name from Earth's history.

"Sichelschnitt. The Sickle Cut."

A slightly undersized one, mind you.

"Good. Sichelschnitt. The name alone is brilliant. Whether we'll actually harvest the Republican bastards along with it remains to be seen."

At once, the practical questions landed on the conference table.

"But however brilliant the plan, without the hands and feet to execute it, it's nothing but a daydream."

It was Major General Falkenhein who raised the matter.

"Who will take the vanguard and break through the Ashen Forest?"

His gaze made a slow circuit of the briefing room.

But wherever it landed, the Empire's finest elite officers suddenly found reasons to avert their eyes or clear their throats.

"Your Excellency, we beg your pardon, but…"

The chief of staff spoke with visible discomfort.

"Surely the ideal course would be to place an officer intimately familiar with the Ashen Forest's geography in command of the breakthrough…"

"Hmm."

Falkenhein stroked his chin. A fair point. The forest crossing was the linchpin of the entire operation; no one ignorant of its terrain could lead it.

Which meant, next—

The division commander's gaze turned toward our 7th Brigade. Brigadier General Dietrich flinched and squared his shoulders.

But Falkenhein never called his name.

The 7th Brigade had already spent everything it had at Rosenheim. The soldiers were exhausted and their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠equipment hung in tatters. Handing them the vanguard was out of the question.

"Then that leaves…"

At last, Major General Falkenhein's gaze came to rest on a single point.

"The right man for the job was always going to be exactly one."

……

Me.

Honestly, I'd expected nothing less. No—in truth, the entire reason I'd set this board up in the first place was precisely this.

Some would call it madness. Surely, they'd say, staying safe in the rear and skimming the cream off the top offered better odds of survival. In an ordinary situation, that would be the correct answer.

But my calculator was different.

I had Minimap. Absolute information superiority—the power to slip into their blind spots and strike through every gap.

And I was supposed to take orders from someone else while holding a cheat like that? If some half-wit commander barked at me to charge in the wrong direction, even my skills would become worthless.

I hold the steering wheel, or I die.

It looked dangerous, but seizing the initiative myself was the surest formula for survival—and for victory.

Having settled my thoughts, I affected a troubled expression and said,

"Your Excellency. This is an honor far beyond my deserts, but I am merely a humble infantry captain. My rank, my experience, my ability—they are all woefully inadequate."

On the surface, it sounded like a refusal.

It was, in fact, the opposite.

The chief of staff nodded at my point and chimed in.

"Quite right, Your Excellency. Given the importance of this operation, we need a commander of at least regimental level."

The hilt was far too heavy a thing to hand to a mere captain. And just as the mood in the briefing room began tilting back toward skepticism—

"Rank, is it."

Major General Falkenhein snorted.

"If that's the problem, there is a remarkably simple solution."

He drew a fountain pen from inside his coat and, without a moment's ceremony, scrawled something across the signature line of the operation plan lying before me.

Scritch, scritch.

A powerful hand ground across the paper. Falkenhein then lifted the sheet and held it up for all to see.

"Effective immediately, Captain Max Jaeger is hereby granted authority to raise and command an independent Kampfgruppe."

A battlegroup. A Kampfgruppe.

A ad-hoc combined-arms formation, organized outside the standing order of battle for a specific mission.

"The unit designation will be Kampfgruppe Jaeger. Its composition: the 1st Armored Division's reconnaissance battalion, armored battalion, and mechanized infantry battalion as its core."

It was a staggering force. Effectively regimental firepower or better. The briefing room rippled with unrest.

But Falkenhein's unorthodox pronouncements did not end there.

"And to establish the chain of command—"

He signaled to his adjutant with a glance, and a prepared box was brought forward.

Click.

The box opened, and two radiant silver blossoms flashed into the light.

"Captain Max Jaeger is hereby provisionally promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, by special wartime provision."