Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Have You Heard of Total War? (2)
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What we need isn't Plan A. Plan A, the Schlieffen Plan, already exists.
What we need now is a rough outline for how to conduct the war if the Schlieffen Plan fails.
It's time to think about Plan B.
Countermeasures against the British entry into the war and the resulting naval blockade, and ways to break through that blockade.
Reviewing the possibility of American intervention and measures to keep them neutral.
Centralized economic control, strengthening of food and resource rationing systems, and plans to accelerate production technology innovations.
Securing and maintaining the support of the German people, efficient utilization of the workforce, continuous innovation in military strategy and tactics, and strengthened diplomatic efforts.
In summary...
'Maximizing the efficiency of all resource management.'
In other words.
"Total War?"
"Yes, that's right."
Total War—that was the Plan B I'd come up with.
"Total War is a concept that mobilizes not only human and material resources but even abstract values like humanity as means to achieve victory in war. It means throwing every capability of the nation into the war, regardless of gender, age, or social status."
"..."
"It's my countermeasure for a prolonged war."
Count Schlieffen's eyes wavered for a moment.
When you, the pinnacle of the Prussian fighting cocks, react like this, it makes me a bit embarrassed.
In my time, Total War was everyday life. Not the idiotic Total War of the German Empire or Nazi Germany, but true Total War.
Well, that doesn't mean Korea was as crazy as them.
...Probably?
"The core of Total War is that it must consider not just munitions production capacity, but every aspect: social mobilization, maintaining civilian life, political unity, sustainability, and more. Economic management is especially crucial."
"..."
"If Your Excellency's plan succeeds, great. If it fails, we must boldly abandon the short decisive battle and prepare for a prolonged war."
"...Germany's capabilities are inferior to those of the Entente. A prolonged war raises the chance of defeat."
"That's exactly why we must mobilize every capability. We can't just sit by the roadside crying if Plan A fails."
...Ah, that bastard Little Moltke really did cry.
I need to shove that guy aside at some point too. Wonder if it's possible.
"Your Excellency has strictly separated military and politics, but war is no longer simply a matter for the military."
"Total War... Total War..."
"We need a new plan."
As I continued to persuade him, Count Schlieffen fell deep into thought.
But the conclusion would be simple. The Schlieffen Plan couldn't be strengthened further anyway.
No matter how clueless the Prussian soldiers were, if they didn't change their minds even when I spoon-fed them like this, they'd just be spoiled brats throwing tantrums.
Gulp—he took a sip of water, let out a breath, and looked up at me.
"...What preparations are needed for this Total War?"
Fortunately, Count Schlieffen was an adult.
I answered immediately.
"Please secretly gather key figures and power players from industry, politics, the military, the imperial court, and diplomacy. And prepare nondisclosure agreements for the number of attendees."
With this, the German Empire could drag France and Britain deeper into the abyss than in the original history.
The controllable variables I wanted.
If we win, great... and even if we lose, it would still have enough meaning.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Lately, with Rommel holing up in the dormitory—or rather, vanishing entirely—rumors were flying wildly among the cadets.
Even the instructors dodged questions when asked, making the gossip grow bigger by the day.
"Heard he caught some serious illness."
"They say he got hauled off because of that report he wrote."
"Rumor has it he's already been commissioned as a lieutenant because his skills are too outstanding?"
His attendance at Kurt Student and the others' graduation ceremony dispelled many rumors...
But questions lingered.
And surprisingly, plenty of higher-ups shared the cadets' doubts.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it."
The Kaiser's 21st-century American air-drop supply-level super massive parachute.
Chief of Staff Helmuth Johannes Ludwig von Moltke.
Or Little Moltke, or Parachute Moltke as he was called—he was one of them.
"Damn it! Why is a retired old geezer meddling not just in military affairs but in state matters too?!"
"I-I'm sorry."
Count Schlieffen had secretly gathered experts from various fields, but given the scale, it became an open secret among the high command.
Many wanted to stop this finicky, dangerous old man who acted on whims when things didn't suit him.
But his authority was what it was, so everyone pointed fingers saying "you go" like it was Hawaii.
The scattered fingers converged on one point: Little Moltke.
Meaning, the military should handle military matters.
"Crazy..."
For Moltke, it was like getting slapped out of nowhere.
"How can we tell a military elder and my personal senior what to do? Huh? Answer me!"
"Y-Yes."
The adjutant nodded frantically.
He had no idea why this was happening to him, but he nodded anyway.
"Right?! So you go in my stead!"
"Yes... Yes?!?"
But at Moltke's words, the adjutant shook his head in horror.
Desperately racking his brain, the adjutant came up with an excuse.
"How could I possibly represent the Chief of Staff?! The Count would think even worse of it!"
"Urgh. True."
Moltke's indecisive, introverted nature showed even before his adjutant.
He grumbled in his seat before an idea struck him, and he turned to the adjutant.
"...How about sending Hindenburg?"
"You mean General Hindenburg, Excellency?"
"Yes."
The adjutant stared with a face screaming "that's a terrible idea," but Moltke pretended not to notice.
Hindenburg was Count Schlieffen's prized pupil, recommended as the next Chief of Staff.
Sending him from Parachute Moltke to block it? Fat chance he'd listen...
He'd more likely side with Count Schlieffen.
"Ah, whatever!"
But Moltke seemed determined to ignore the fallout.
"The important thing is we tried, right? Huh? If I send even a general to stop him and that stubborn old coot won't listen, who can blame me?!"
"..."
"Hindenburg's Schlieffen's disciple! If he can't stop him, neither can I!"
And so, the order from this rotten bureaucratic waste was passed to Hindenburg.
To Magdeburg, where the 4th Corps was stationed.
"Hoo..."
Reading the dizzying order, Hindenburg rubbed his eyes.
"I've become an old relic too. Seeing things..."
Of course, saying so didn't change reality.
"..."
Hindenburg massaged his narrowing brow and kept staring at the order.
Even from Magdeburg—closer than Hamburg, Cologne, or Frankfurt—to Berlin, he'd need a train.
For Hindenburg, who was just biding time until retirement, such hassles were unwelcome.
"Ugh..."
Of course, Moltke wasn't considerate enough to think of his feelings.
Grimacing, Hindenburg crumpled the order.
"Adjutant, book me a train ticket to Berlin."
"Yes, sir."
As the statue-like adjutant left, Hindenburg sat and reexamined the order.
"Out of nowhere, 'stop Count Schlieffen's conspiracy'? What is this."
Not just the content—no serial number, no signature—it wasn't even an official order.
Charitably, a "request" letter sent with some decorum.
Uncharitably, just scrap paper.
"Even His Majesty the Kaiser has no eye for people."
Rip—rip—Hindenburg grumbled as he tore the paper.
In the army, people in their final years were touchy enough; a general, even more so.
No matter if it was from the Chief of Staff, who would dare say anything to Hindenburg?
Clunk—
"Ah, you're back."
"..."
Unfortunately, the adjutant saw the paper shreds on the desk but quickly formatted his brain.
Beep—reset—the adjutant saw nothing.
"...Lunch tomorrow, then depart around 2 PM."
"I'll stay a few days in Berlin. Have them prepare at my residence."
"Understood."
Hearing the adjutant's reply, Hindenburg turned his gaze to a file cabinet stuffed with documents.
"Come to think of it..."
Something occurred to him, and he pulled out a file and opened it.
"Might as well meet him while I'm heading to Berlin. Word is he's up to all sorts of things already."
The file's title read:
'The Foreseen Great War and the New Paradigm of the Battlefield'
It was...
"Erwin Rommel."
The original report Erwin Rommel had written, which had rocked the military.
The one Rommel Senior had brought, recommending his son.
"No high expectations, but it's a seed I planted."
The moment a patron decided to meet his protégé.