The Finest Hour Page 3

  "You haven't changed one bit, Major von Degurechaff. All right, I wish you success. May God protect you."

  Although Colonel von Lergen's expression indicates he's perplexed by the somewhat philosophical vow, he manages to smile awkwardly and extend his hand.

  "May God protect the fatherland. Then again, as long as us soldiers are around, maybe we can handle it ourselves instead."

  Tanya grasps the man's hand and smiles fearlessly. Humans can handle God's work instead. Though Lergen said it in a spur of the moment, it felt wonderful for her. She's practically falling in love with the turn of phrase.

  We'll take God's place.

  "May God protect the fatherland. Then again, as long as us soldiers are around, maybe we can handle it ourselves instead."

  What a great way to put it!

  The only problem with it is...I'll need to get rid of that damned Being X somehow. But even so, the wise and proper first step, atheism, will be taken.

  I will save the fatherland in God's place. The enthusiasm that wells up inside her from the boast feels amazing. They're magic words that fill her with optimism and the willpower to be so accomplished that the very existence of God becomes unnecessary.

  In theory, storming the enemy headquarters is a logical choice.

  No, I would even venture to call it thoroughly rational. After all, committing significant forces to defend an important base in the rear while allotting troops to the front lines is an exceptional workload.

  This goes without saying, but the fact that the Republican forces will have to implement countermeasures for the future, even if we literally deal no damage at all to their headquarters, means we can already expect the attack to have considerable effect.

  Any soldier who hears their headquarters has come under attack would anticipate the coming trouble and bury their head in their hands. Nor has it been rare in wars of any place or era for heavy bombers to harass the bunker where the enemy commanders are holed up.

  In this world, mages represent a unique branch of the military. They can serve as infantry or airborne troops that possess mobility on par with helicopters. Depending on how they're deployed, they can be quite handy for penetrating deep into enemy territory.

  When we write a new page of history by displaying the quintessence of magic fighting power, if it's possible to put in a part about saving the fatherland in God's place, that would be the best publicity.

  Tanya thinks to herself, I'm just taking these lemons and making lemonade, as she tries to turn a crisis into an opportunity, foreseeing the great promotional opportunity.

  Granted, I'd be even happier to participate if this operation didn't entail being tied to a clump of explosives.

  It's important to spell this out... I've been selected to be a part of the strike team that will insert into the field strapped to a V-1.

  Even so, that was a day Major von Degurechaff felt exuberant after successfully finding a clear purpose to work toward.

  Everyone who was present that day would pass down a wondrous story---a tale about how the Devil of the Rhine, Rusted Silver rushed toward the enemy headquarters in the highest of spirits.

  Her quick, concise pre-sortie speech would be gossiped about in whispers long afterward. "Gentlemen, may the gods protect the fatherland, but only if we soldiers are on paid vacation in Valhalla!" Then, in front of her subordinates who howled with laughter, witnesses said she boasted, "We will save the fatherland in God's place! Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's! Men, it is time for a war waged by humans. We go to win!"

  But history tends to pass down only one side of a story: Immediately after barking those words, she turned her back to everyone to climb nimbly up the ladder to board her V-1. On her face was a disappointed look that screamed, Why me?

  Current altitude: 8,800 feet; speed: 991 knots.

  The company made up of elites of the elite, selected from the 203rd, formally known as the 203rd Aerial Interception Mage Battalion, smashes through the sound barrier on their attack mission in three Schwärme.

  For better or worse, the operation is smoothly under way with no mechanical trouble.

  It's "under way," but really we're just being transported, grumbles Tanya in her head. Though there are a few things they can adjust, the V-1s Tanya and her company are riding are essentially rockets, not aircraft. There actually is a way to change direction, but even that's limited to a few millimeters, meaning it's only useful for slight course adjustments.

  This makes piloting a V-1 extremely simple. After flipping the switch to turn on the engine, all that's left is to make minor corrections with the control stick.

  There's almost nothing the mages on board can do once they launch. In fact, the only thing we have to do is maintain our protective films and defensive shells. The stick is good for adjusting the angle of our approach and that's about it. If we need to perform emergency evasion for some reason, the only option available is a special function that provides more acceleration.

  Ultimately, we're just being transported to the airspace above our destination with fuel tanks. In a way, we're like the early astronauts. A couple of people who're merely along for the ride.

  Well, unlike the early astronauts, we can't expect an enthusiastic reception from bouquet-bearing colleagues upon a successful landing.

  After all, we won't be arriving back on Earth where a support team is anxiously awaiting our return at the planned touchdown point but in a nest of dear escargots overflowing with hostility.

  If we smile and cheerfully greet the startled Françoisians with a Guten Tag, we're bound to get lead bullets in return.

  Which is why Tanya's unit visiting from the Empire will politely knock on the door first.

  The plan is to detach from the V-1s, full of hydrazine and boron additives, then use them as door knockers to land the first blow.

  Rocket shells traveling faster than sound will crash into their respective targets. It goes without saying that they carry quite a lot of energy with them. Our scientists have guaranteed that these are the best door knockers in all of human history; they'll jolt you awake no matter how deep your subterranean bunker is.

  I'm sure our visit will be very surprising, what with us knocking so hard, but this is a gentlemanly two-part operation where our mage detachment will carry out our attack afterward.

  In other words, whoever thought up this plan is awfully wicked. That's the best praise anyone can give an officer on the General Staff.

  But as one of the people strapped to a rocket filled with doom, I want to cry. We don't even need to take fire like a one-shot lighter---an external explosion would be enough to do us in.

  Well, this is the tragedy of war. We probably should cry. The fate awaiting both those of us forced to attack and the people we're hunting is to spill blood from our mouths in a fight to the death. By now, everyone on the battlefield is a victim---another tear-inducing tragedy of war. Despite being a soldier forced to fight, Tanya von Degurechaff declares that peace is sacred.

  It's much better for soldiers to putter around idly in a peaceful world. If soldiers are sweating and bleeding in earnest, it means the nation forgot to either wear its diaper or keep a guard dog.

  Though this situation is spinning out of control, Major Tanya von Degurechaff sadly swallows her sighs and complaints as she reminds herself that she must push forward with her duty. I'm currently a soldier, which means I must fulfill my military obligations. And in these modern times, a well-disciplined unit is not allowed to be late.

  To console herself, Tanya muses, At least if history makes a note of this, it should also mention atheism on the battlefield. This is a great chance for me to carve my beliefs into the history books.

  If there's a chance to leave behind words that disparage God, then Tanya has no choice but to perform some outrageous promotional stunts today.

  After all, there's no such thing as bad PR. Well, I guess the difference here is that instead of message boards lighting up in a
flame war, it'll be organic matter going up in literal flames. Even if the varieties of flames are different, they achieve the same effect, so maybe I don't have to worry about it too much.

  Time for work. Tanya checks the time and reviews her plans.

  No, there's no time left to waste grumbling.

  According to the schedule, it's almost time to prep for the strike, so Tanya switches gears and quickly confirms the steps she needs to take. Midcourse speed is normal. The afterburner settings for the terminal phase of the flight are also fine.

  The empty fuel tank she was anxious might explode separates as it's supposed to.

  With an eye on her navigation chart, Tanya gets a fairly accurate reading of her current position---which is quite critical---using her instruments. She's been concerned about miscalculations or being blown off course by the wind, but her approximate position is almost exactly as planned. Everything is within acceptable tolerances.

  "01 to all units. We're now entering the final leg. Report in."

  Receiving responses that there are no problems from her company via directional waves, Tanya suppresses a range of emotions and nods for the moment. There's a lot she wants to say, but at least the mechanics in charge of V-1 maintenance did their jobs right. She'll have to thank them for the way the machines didn't malfunction and suddenly come apart midflight.

  Fearing the worst, she had secured enough tear-resistant, fireproof, automatic parachutes designed for extreme conditions that she had used back during her Elinium Arms days and outfitted the whole team. Fortune must be smiling on us since we didn't have to use them during the flight.

  ...No, destiny is something we humans grasp with our hands. It's decidedly not bestowed upon us by someone else's grace. Luck isn't really the right way to say it. This is a favorable outcome humans created themselves through careful maintenance and thorough confirmation.

  "01 to all units. It's time. Measure your distance and calculate your angle of approach on the double."

  A world in which success blossoms by the hands and efforts of humans... That is the ideal world. No matter how unproductive it is, praising humans for being so wonderful requires no pretense.

  "05 to 01. Target located."

  "09 to 01. Same. Target located."

  "Splendid. All units, confirm that strike preparations are complete."

  It's rare for war---or anything, really---to go according to plan, but it's far from impossible. If precautions are carefully taken ahead of time, the environment is forgiving, and inefficiency and recklessness are abhorred, then it can happen.

  Isn't that spectacular? Hooray for efficiency! That's what I'm talking about.

  "01 to all units. Transition into phase seven. I say again, transition into phase seven." Upon receiving confirmation from her men that preparations are complete, Tanya shifts to the next stage.

  Phase seven, the strike order.

  The moment she gives the signal, the members of the company separate from their V-1s and eject.

  Due to the nature of the V-1's propulsion originating from the engine in the rear rather than a propeller out front, the mages are ejected forward before beginning their free fall.

  Simultaneously, almost like a fun bonus, the empty fuel tanks and passenger-shielding elements begin to purge from the rocket; they'll function as camouflage.

  Tanya and the other mages mingle with these jettisoned parts on their descent. Performing the first HALO drop1 in recorded history is fairly risky business.

  For additional stealth, we're challenging the limitations of HALO. Normally you would open the parachutes around 980 feet, but we're mages. We'll fall at the same speed as the rocket parts and decelerate right before two hundred fifty. By hiding this way, we dramatically reduce our chances of being discovered.

  Still, that only means the probability of discovery is very low. The plan doesn't take our safety into account at all. It's a choice based purely on tactical necessity.

  I won't be satisfied until I get back and force the person who thought this up to try it themselves.

  "Men, may God protect you."

  She meant to wish her troops luck but ended up saying something she didn't like one bit. Well, damn it.

  If I'm praying for the protection of that infuriating deity, I must be really messed up in the head. Tanya's forced to lament this as another aspect of the tragedy and brutality of war. These conflicts spell nothing good for sound psyches.

  And I wish so, so dearly for the creator of the Elinium Type 95, a particular mad scientist, to go straight to hell. It was a mistake to forgive him simply because he wasn't in his right mind. Tanya's so eager to see him go that she wouldn't mind doing it herself.

  With all these thoughts in her mind, she adds another comment.

  "Okay, gentlemen, let's put God out of a job!"

  Really, my ambition is to become my own salvation, Tanya thinks to herself as she follows procedure to the letter and deploys her parachute at the prescribed altitude.

  For a brief instant, the deceleration g's are absolutely unbearable. After that, I feel only gratitude for having such a small body until I encounter the shock of making landfall, which I just barely manage to distribute using the PLF technique. I complete the landing thanks to a mage's unique sturdiness and my protective film.

  The day where I employ the emergency landing technique drilled into me during our computation orb aerial maneuvering course has finally come. What the hell. Tanya sighs, blowing off steam by mentally punching the guy who came up with this drop technique as she cuts herself free from her parachute.

  Still, it seems that everyone in the unit has touched down without issue.

  It makes me glad that we learned the five-point parachute landing fall properly.

  I did wonder what was wrong with instructors who would willingly shove a child like me---even if only in appearance---out of a plane. But now I have to thank them from the bottom of my heart. I should send a note when I get back.

  Having thought that far, Tanya winces. The mission. I have to get through this first. She reboots her mind.

  Figuring it would be difficult to meet up upon landing, she instructed everyone to operate in Rotten with whoever was close by. So who landed around here? When Tanya scans the area, she sees Second Lieutenant Serebryakov running toward her. Apparently, my adjutant has landed safely. Of course, that's what Tanya expected from her tough buddy; they've been together since their time on the Rhine.

  "09 to 01. Landing complete. No losses."

  "01, roger. Report on the results of the supplemental acceleration device impacts."

  This is a good sign. Tanya smiles. Happily, the unit seems to have maintained good order. First Lieutenant Weiss, who landed some distance away, promptly reports in that he has made contact with the rest of the company. Though the whole unit dropped separately, reorganization is going as smoothly as it possibly could---something that only a highly trained group can pull off.

  "The door knockers hit almost all bull's-eyes. The only target we apparently missed is the ammunition dump."

  But things can only go so smoothly.

  To Tanya, a miss is a miss, but the warhead that was supposed to cause security at the enemy headquarters to descend into chaos after detonating their ammunition dump hasn't done its job. That's why Tanya doesn't reprove all the people who she can hear sucking their teeth over the radio. She only sighs, thinking to herself, I told them to do at least one test run.

  Sadly, there's nothing else she can do. Or rather, she should probably be glad that they were transported via a barely tested clump of explosives and achieved most of the planned objectives so far without losing anyone.

  That's why she hesitates for a brief moment, trying to think of the best way to proceed. The safe arrival of her eleven subordinates has been confirmed via a secure channel.

  That's certainly good news, but since we failed to blow up the huge storehouse suspected to be an ammunition dump, the enemy probably isn't too confus
ed. Still, the defenders probably haven't realized we're preparing to attack.

  ...In conclusion, we can still recover from this. Destroying that ammunition dump is still plenty possible.

  "We have no choice, then. I'll work on taking out the ammunition dump. You guys, blow away any defenders. We don't have much time. Keep your eye on the schedule!"

  "09, roger! Can I take two platoons?"

  "01, sure. 07, 12, come with me."

  "04 to 09. Form up in Schwarm."

  "02 to 01. We're in Schwarm, too."

  Satisfied with the swift assembly of the platoons, yet irritated at the poor V-1 impact results, Tanya finds herself a bit frustrated.

  Her unit is in fine shape. They infiltrated enemy territory with no casualties and no organizational mishaps. It must be true that efficiency improves people's mood. Seeing a group that can capably carry out orders is a joy. The problem is the high likelihood that we haven't caused the chaos that this attack was predicated on.

  My company may be in good form, but we aren't supposed to be going up against an enemy command post with its secure defenses intact.

  "Be ready for the assault. I'll go after the ammo dump, but do everything else according to the plan."

  "How should we divide up the objectives?"

  "09, you take B and C. I'll do A."

  Resigned to the high potential of taking terrible losses, Tanya chooses to carry out the raids, as if she has any other choice.

  According to the data they received beforehand, there are three possible locations for the main Republican Army headquarters facilities. They were counting on the chaos for a chance to identify their target properly---a V-1 was supposed to have blown up the Republican Rhine Army Group's ammunition dump.

  ...Maybe I asked for too much.

  Because the people who equipped us are engineers through and through, they gave us flying objects that use leftover boron additive to light afterburners and actually accelerate into the ground instead of coasting. Would there ever be any manufacturing line problems if every industrial product functioned exactly according to the manual?