Post by gelb on Apr 22, 2024 13:18:31 GMT -5
As the Roskanan military and fought Grinvel's army tooth and nail for every inch of ground that was taken from them, generals in the far rear of the fight slowly came to the realization that the war would have no chance of ending in anything less than the destruction of Roskana and its people unless they tried something completely different. Drastic measures had already been taken, with most water supplies on and near the rapidly receding front poisoned with crude oil, toxic gas, and dead bodies, all roads and railways going from the trench lines filled with land mines and explosive craters, every single nonessential bridge blasted to bits, and most every city close to the front reduced to little more than smoldering rubble by Roskanan artillery, but this still proved to only slow the advance of the enemy and many believed it only a matter of time before their enemy's terrible machines roared over the hill and into the capital itself.
Stress led to fear, fear led to paranoia, and paranoia led to a breakdown of the command structure.
Generals locked in on failing strategies as they desperately tried to make sense of what they were seeing. Casualties on a scale never before seen in Roskana, armies retreating only to be blasted away by their own artillery desperately trying to halt an enemy breakthrough, the countryside burning damn near day and night. It all seemed hopeless.
Until a young field commander walked in on a very heated debate over which General was selling state secrets to the enemy.
"Gentlemen, if you please." The young man said, immediately drawing the attention of the five elderly men (one of whom looked on the verge of a heart attack) to stare upon his fresh face. He was battle worn, no scars but he had the bags under his eyes and the hollow gaze to prove his service in the meat grinder, but still he stood tall, proud even, over the men who should by all means outrank him sevenfold. In any other situation, had their heads been clearer, and had four of them not been half drunk on a private stash of wine, they might have put him in his place and sent him straight back to the front.
But they paused and listened to him, if for nothing else then their own sanity.
"Thank you." The young man said, moving up to the war table and pushing a spare glass off the wine and coffee stained map sitting atop it. He took a moment, perhaps for dramatic effect, to study the map and trace a finger across the front lines. His callous hand caught the map for a moment but it was freed with little more than a tug.
"You see, Generals, I understand your stress and why you decide to deal with it in such an....unprofessional manner." He said, tossing a scornful look at the three Generals that had yet to take their hands off each other's necks. "But there are far better ways to vent that stress. Primarily in thinking up a new plan to destroy the enemies of Roskana, seeing as they are practically knocking down our gates I should hope that they are your top priority now?"
The Generals nodded, letting go of each other and mumbling something about Auran not being built in a day.
"Good, then I hope you wont mind if I propose a new strategy. One to go along with the hefty amount of time and effort being poured into our sorely lacking armored corps?" The young man said, grabbing the old war map and roughly tossing it down on the floor. Once the paper had settled, he quite gently laid down a new map and tapped the various colored markings upon it.
"Trenches do not work against a mobile enemy, that much has been made perfectly clear by this attack upon our home soil. Enemies advance upon a static position under the cover of artillery fire and heavily armored vehicles, any of our men trapped in the trenches are shelled, shot, burned, or crushed to death, enemy takes our trench, repeat." He said bluntly, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "But, our enemy wrongly sees this to be a result of superior technology and numbers as they merely seize our trench lines and repair them for use against any potential counterattack we could muster. This now leaves them vulnerable to attack utilizing the exact same tactics they used against us."
One of the generals cleared his throat, calling attention to himself.
"Of course thats all fine and dandy. But what the hell are we supposed to do after we take their trenchlines? Seems to me like itll become a simple game of grab ass until someone runs out of soldiers!" He said, eliciting nods from the other generals and a general murmur of approval.
"Thats the thing, we dont take the trenches." The Field Commander replied, smiling at the man who had spoken. "We simply destroy them, have the engineers repurpose any machine guns we might capture and then detonate explosives across the entire line. Remove the trench, remove any defensive position the enemy could take in a counterattack."
"But what about our men?"
"I am glad you asked, sir." The Field Marshal chuckled, tapping the table again. "We swap tactics completely. Abandon any idea of a fixed defensive line and utilize a far more elastic strategy to engage and react to enemy advance. Grinvel pushes on one city, we send a battalion to reinforce the one there. We spot a weakness in their lines, two battalions spearhead through and split the enemy in half." He rolled his shoulders back, puffing out his chest a bit. "And with that new T12 that just entered development, such a strategy will not only make us even, but it might even tip the scales in our favor for once in this war."
"How the hell do you expect us to trust this?" One general bursted out, still looking like his heart was fit to explode in his chest. "Y-you could be throwing our men straight into a trap! Leaving them exposed like this...itll surely get them killed faster than any Grinvel tank!"
"I expect you to trust this plan, sir, because you have no other plan to trust." The Field Commander said simply. "All our old tactics have failed, our men are in short supply, and half the country is currently full of fire and toxic water yet you wish to throw out a good plan simply because it changes the game?"
The Generals all paused, looking between each other with nervous glances for a few seconds before glancing back to the field commander. Then one general, the highest ranking and most sober of the group spoke up.
"Well, son, I guess we had better be informed of your name at least. If you intend to help us put this plan into action." He said, holding out his hand for a handshake.
"Field Marshall Darek Wilhelm, sir." Wilhelm replied, smiling as he firmly shook his hand. "I'm glad you made the right choice."
Stress led to fear, fear led to paranoia, and paranoia led to a breakdown of the command structure.
Generals locked in on failing strategies as they desperately tried to make sense of what they were seeing. Casualties on a scale never before seen in Roskana, armies retreating only to be blasted away by their own artillery desperately trying to halt an enemy breakthrough, the countryside burning damn near day and night. It all seemed hopeless.
Until a young field commander walked in on a very heated debate over which General was selling state secrets to the enemy.
"Gentlemen, if you please." The young man said, immediately drawing the attention of the five elderly men (one of whom looked on the verge of a heart attack) to stare upon his fresh face. He was battle worn, no scars but he had the bags under his eyes and the hollow gaze to prove his service in the meat grinder, but still he stood tall, proud even, over the men who should by all means outrank him sevenfold. In any other situation, had their heads been clearer, and had four of them not been half drunk on a private stash of wine, they might have put him in his place and sent him straight back to the front.
But they paused and listened to him, if for nothing else then their own sanity.
"Thank you." The young man said, moving up to the war table and pushing a spare glass off the wine and coffee stained map sitting atop it. He took a moment, perhaps for dramatic effect, to study the map and trace a finger across the front lines. His callous hand caught the map for a moment but it was freed with little more than a tug.
"You see, Generals, I understand your stress and why you decide to deal with it in such an....unprofessional manner." He said, tossing a scornful look at the three Generals that had yet to take their hands off each other's necks. "But there are far better ways to vent that stress. Primarily in thinking up a new plan to destroy the enemies of Roskana, seeing as they are practically knocking down our gates I should hope that they are your top priority now?"
The Generals nodded, letting go of each other and mumbling something about Auran not being built in a day.
"Good, then I hope you wont mind if I propose a new strategy. One to go along with the hefty amount of time and effort being poured into our sorely lacking armored corps?" The young man said, grabbing the old war map and roughly tossing it down on the floor. Once the paper had settled, he quite gently laid down a new map and tapped the various colored markings upon it.
"Trenches do not work against a mobile enemy, that much has been made perfectly clear by this attack upon our home soil. Enemies advance upon a static position under the cover of artillery fire and heavily armored vehicles, any of our men trapped in the trenches are shelled, shot, burned, or crushed to death, enemy takes our trench, repeat." He said bluntly, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "But, our enemy wrongly sees this to be a result of superior technology and numbers as they merely seize our trench lines and repair them for use against any potential counterattack we could muster. This now leaves them vulnerable to attack utilizing the exact same tactics they used against us."
One of the generals cleared his throat, calling attention to himself.
"Of course thats all fine and dandy. But what the hell are we supposed to do after we take their trenchlines? Seems to me like itll become a simple game of grab ass until someone runs out of soldiers!" He said, eliciting nods from the other generals and a general murmur of approval.
"Thats the thing, we dont take the trenches." The Field Commander replied, smiling at the man who had spoken. "We simply destroy them, have the engineers repurpose any machine guns we might capture and then detonate explosives across the entire line. Remove the trench, remove any defensive position the enemy could take in a counterattack."
"But what about our men?"
"I am glad you asked, sir." The Field Marshal chuckled, tapping the table again. "We swap tactics completely. Abandon any idea of a fixed defensive line and utilize a far more elastic strategy to engage and react to enemy advance. Grinvel pushes on one city, we send a battalion to reinforce the one there. We spot a weakness in their lines, two battalions spearhead through and split the enemy in half." He rolled his shoulders back, puffing out his chest a bit. "And with that new T12 that just entered development, such a strategy will not only make us even, but it might even tip the scales in our favor for once in this war."
"How the hell do you expect us to trust this?" One general bursted out, still looking like his heart was fit to explode in his chest. "Y-you could be throwing our men straight into a trap! Leaving them exposed like this...itll surely get them killed faster than any Grinvel tank!"
"I expect you to trust this plan, sir, because you have no other plan to trust." The Field Commander said simply. "All our old tactics have failed, our men are in short supply, and half the country is currently full of fire and toxic water yet you wish to throw out a good plan simply because it changes the game?"
The Generals all paused, looking between each other with nervous glances for a few seconds before glancing back to the field commander. Then one general, the highest ranking and most sober of the group spoke up.
"Well, son, I guess we had better be informed of your name at least. If you intend to help us put this plan into action." He said, holding out his hand for a handshake.
"Field Marshall Darek Wilhelm, sir." Wilhelm replied, smiling as he firmly shook his hand. "I'm glad you made the right choice."