Chapter 283
Chapter 283
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 283
Chapter Title: No Militarism in Our Empire (5)
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On the TV show Kim Housewife's Alley Eateries, when they compared thriving spots to the ones going bust, a buddy of mine dropped this gem.
"Whether you're launching a business or slinging food, anyone who kicks things off thinking, 'That dumbass can do it, so why the hell can't I?' is pretty much guaranteed to crash and burn."
I didn't think much of it at first, but then he kept going, and by the end, I had to nod along with everything he said.
"Those joints we call 'hidden gems' or whatever? They open at 9 a.m., but the owners are out there by 4 or 5 in the damn morning, scrubbing the place down and prepping ingredients. They're losing sleep obsessing over how to make their food even tastier, just to snag a few extra good reviews from customers. Even then, bad luck, a crap location, or the wrong menu can tank them, leaving them with debts piling up over a hundred million won. So you think some lazy jackass who sees their flashy success and jumps in half-assed, figuring 'that'll be me easy,' stands a chance?"
That's exactly how I felt listening to that bastard Manstein's nonsense.
What the hell gave him—or all these Reich Empire generals like me—the balls to assume victory's in the bag just because we've racked up some big wins and our army's tough as nails?
It might sound like bragging, so it's hard for me to say it myself, but I've never once gone into a war truly convinced I'd win.
I've busted my ass creating strategies, tactics, operations, and situations where victory was possible. And once we clashed head-on with the enemy, I'd stake my own life on the table, fighting tooth and nail in a brutal game of wits until we pulled through.
So how does a Staff Headquarters major general, with multiple combat tours and a chest full of medals, pop out some armchair bullshit like "I'm certain of victory"?
Hah, it's so goddamn absurd I'm choking on my own rage. I feel a stroke coming on.
Still, in a setting like this, flying off the handle won't cut it. The smart play is staying ice-cold, hitting him with facts to shatter his delusions into dust.
I took a deep breath, then fixed him with a voice like a frozen blade.
"Major General Manstein, do you think victory comes easy?"
"No, sir! But strategy starts with judging whether it's a war we can't win or one we can. Based on what I've outlined before, I'm operating under the premise that we can win this next one. That's how I've built our operations and crafted a new doctrine—our fighting principles."
I barely held back a sigh at that textbook drivel.
"Fine, let me ask you this. Can the Empire keep supplying our forces at the same level as during the Warsaw campaign I led—the exact demands we made back then? Sounds like boasting, and I'm embarrassed to say it, but do you have the confidence to personally take over two hundred enemy heads in a month's worth of hellish conditions like I did? Pick any unit in the Imperial Army at any time—do you really think they'll fight without shame alongside the Seventh Guard Division I commanded?"
Manstein met my questions with eyes brimming with pride, his posture and voice radiating certainty.
"I, Manstein, can't charge at the front like you, General Jaeger, sword in hand with the troops. But I am certain."
"Certain of what?"
"My proud homeland, the soldiers of the Reich Empire—they're strong enough, great enough. The skills they've honed in training shine on any battlefield. Even in crisis, they never fled; they'd die before running. So even in the Seventh Guard Division's shoes, as long as staff officers like me don't give up, they'll fight to the last man, ready to die without surrender. And the Empire's people? They believe in our victory. They won't complain; they'll endure the short-term pain and pay their special taxes willingly. Just like during the Warsaw Grand Duchy war, when His Majesty levied them."
Fuck, this lunatic. How hopped up on Empire propaganda does a staff officer have to be to spout the same spiritualist crap as those 20th-century Imperial Japanese Army morons?
No, wait—Japan had centuries of that fucked-up tradition where disobey the government's orders? No questions asked, they'd wipe out not just the rebel's head but his whole damn family.
Built on that, they drilled "loyalty to the Emperor" and "disobey and die" into kids from infancy. That's how they created people who'd keep backing the war no matter the taxes or family dying.
Europa's different. If the emperor pulls some idiotic stunt like trying to take my head, folks grab a sword upside-down and plot betrayal on the spot. Succeed? Cheers and applause. Fail? Everyone dies anyway. It's a brutally clear give-and-take world.
So even if the people get victory-drunk and cough up special taxes once or twice, follow conscription orders nicely, the more it repeats, the more resentment builds.
Soldiers stop trusting an Empire and officers who keep marching them to death.
Eventually, you get a 'Franco Revolution' like in the Franco Republic, and guys like me in the elite get guillotined. Goddamn spiritualism. Mom, I'm losing my mind.
Still, instead of yelling, I decided to dismantle him point by point with logic and evidence.
"You don't seem to grasp the situation, so let me spell it out. The Imperial Army is strong. The Reich Empire is great. But the Seventh Guard Division held Lichten Hill even after over 30% casualties because their commander—you know, me—was right there with them, fighting, ready to die alongside every last one. By day, I led the vanguard, hacking Swisserland soldiers' heads off. By night, dragging my exhausted body, I comforted the dying—idiots and incompetents like this fool forcing them to fight on that hill, wounded, calling out for moms, wives, fiancées, lovers as they slipped away. They begged me, on their deathbeds, to look after the women they left behind. I heard those pleas. I recorded them. And when we returned to the Empire, I kept my promise."
The Battle of Lichten Hill—most folks, hell, damn near everyone calls it one of my life's greatest feats. But I can't forget what happened there.
I ordered them to fight to the death protecting His Highness the Crown Prince and the Empire.
The dying soldiers called out for their loved ones, thanking me for fighting beside them, calling it an honor, and passed with genuine gratitude.
Close my eyes, and I see them clear as day.
Wake up in cold sweats from nightmares of them so often, I can't even count.
My voice stayed cold. My eyes, face, the air around me now—no different from slicing enemies on the field.
Manstein's killed his share in battle, sure. But this pressure? First time.
His pupils trembled—he was scared.
This time, I laced my words with contempt.
"Didn't they teach you this at the Staff College—no, the Academy? The Imperial Army exists to protect the Empire. Not to squeeze extra taxes from the people just to chase victory."
His face flushed with anger at the scorn, but trash like him couldn't lay a scratch on me.
"Finally, the Empire's already too strong. Intel from the Foreign Ministry says if we start another war, the other nations will ally up just to survive and crush us. Meaning your precious one-on-one surefire victories? They're gone, Major General Manstein."
I flicked his chest medals with my finger, adding insult.
"They taught you at the Staff College, right? That preaching spiritualism without facing reality dooms nations. That one staff officer's screw-up is scarier than a genius enemy general with tens of thousands. And you've demonstrated it perfectly. If your plan passed and the Empire went aggressive..."
Couldn't take the humiliation with the Minister of Military Affairs up top and majors below, he shook, white-gloved hand itching to slap my face with it.
If he threw that gauntlet, Imperial noble law would trigger a duel to the death.
No confidence against a Swordmaster like me—he just trembled.
Hate how the spiritualist asshole's cautious here of all places.
"The Empire would face ruin. We'd lose massive territory to Warsaw, Chekovia, Austrika, Swisserland, Franco Republic, the City Union, you name it. Worst case? Literal extinction. That's how terrifying your pie-in-the-sky, reality-blind ops plan is, Major General Manstein."
Murmurs rose from below the podium.
Couldn't make out words, but with the Minister and my father-in-law not stepping in, I hadn't crossed a line.
Explaining his crap plan fired me up too.
So I decided to perform: show everyone that spewing this garbage gets you humiliated and ruins your life.
I drew the sword from my belt—the one His Imperial Majesty had just used.
Silver blade gleaming, I swung it with the conviction that as the Empire's and His Majesty's sword, I'd cut down any bastard blocking our prosperity and peace.
Of course, I didn't aim for his neck or anything.
Just sliced the rank insignia off his uniform shoulder, letting it drop.
"A staff officer blind to reality harms the Empire. Thus, General Peter von Jaeger, acting on His Imperial Majesty's behalf, advises you to retire immediately. Get out."