//------------------------------// // Meet the Oberstleutnant // Story: Tagesanbruch // by JahJah //------------------------------// “…and as such, for this exercise, all units will be operating under radio silence. I trust you all will be able to devise sufficient methods of coordination to fulfil your objectives.” As he finished speaking, the albino griffon scanned the windowless wooden room, surveying the numerous fuzzy figures crammed in that he knew to be his fellow officers, checking that they understood all that he had said. “Any questions?” One of the figures stepped forward. He motioned towards numerous marked areas on the map that sat on the table that separated the officers and their temporary commander. He spoke slowly and clearly, “Dawnclaw, I must inquire. Some of these objectives make almost no strategic sense. One of them is a field, another is just a dirt T-junction. What is the purpose in selecting these seemingly random places as objectives, when a forest border or a river crossing would make more sense?” Oberstleutnant Ferdinand Dawnclaw was silent for a moment. The voice of the officer was a dead giveaway, but apart from that, obviously this was an older officer, born at least before 940, not trained in any of the new rules of warfare devised in recent years. He reached under his side of the table and pulled out five small chips, three green, one blue, and one red. He silently placed the green chips end-to-end along the road approaching the T-junction, and placed the blue and red chips on the table. The officer who has spoken looked on with confusion. Ferdinand spoke, “The junction is quite simple, you do not understand the proper way that modern war is conducted is all. Modern armies are large, and they need a constant supply of food, ammunition, replacement griffs and guns, and so on. The backbone of the modern army is logistics, and so, the truck becomes just an important tool of war as the machine gun. As such, by delaying the logistics of an enemy, one can delay the entire army. Do you follow?” The griffon - and a few others - nodded. Ferdinand continued. “Suppose these green chips are convoys carrying important logistics forwards.” He moved the green chips towards the junction. He then placed the red chip next to the junction. “Now, if the enemy holds a junction - or even just a road - like this through any means, it endangers the convoy, and delays the supplies. Roads in general are very easy to hold, especially rural ones. Thus, it is to be that our troops should be trained”- he placed the blue chip next to the red one -“in assaulting rural roadsides and junctions. “As for the field, I haven’t fully revealed the exact details of every objective, those are revealed only to the defenders of them. If you want to know why the field is an objective, you must find that out under fire. I hope that answers your question…” he motioned to the griffon, then to his rank sleeves and name tag. “Uh… Hauptmann Brightbeak, Dawnclaw.” “Well, I hope that answers your question, Hauptmann Brightbeak. Does anyone else have questions? No? Then I wish you all fortune in this exercise.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I have also decided to add stakes. The winning side gets a day of free time, the losing side takes the duties of the winners for a day. You are all dismissed.” Ferdinand cleared away the chips as the officers slowly filed out without a word. He gave the map a good look over, and thought a bit. North Strawberry’s countryside wasn’t like the fields along the banks of the Griffking, but it afforded amazing opportunities for training troops in more wooded and rural regions. The defensiveness of the northern garrisons was plain, with forests, creeks, hills, and cracks holding amazing potential for holding, a potential that was also useful for training. Ferdinand himself sometimes went out into the forest to plan potential strongpoints and defensive lines, even if he wasn’t the best at it, since he couldn’t see very well. Not that they’d ever be used. In recent years, the number of incursions into the Herzlands by the Republicans had fallen to almost zero. The last real attack from across the border was three years ago, and in Feathisia. Ferdinand’s troops had mostly just sat back and done nothing but wait for their active service to end. Ferdinand rarely ever visited the encampments that housed the bulk of his forces, but after three years, the garrisons had lost a lot of the motivation to keep up their discipline. He couldn’t blame them, he himself had resigned himself to relaxing here in his manor. That was, until a couple of weeks ago. Ferdinand had devised an almost perfect guise to shake the discipline back into his griffs. Before the late Grover V died, he had personally petitioned the kaiser to allow him to host training exercises, with units from all across the empire. With the Kaiser’s word, there were now thousands of imperial soldiers here, with troops from Strawberry to Yale. This was the perfect excuse to begin drilling his own troops again, without raising eyebrows. As he thought about his plan, he remembered something, and checked his pocket watch. It was rather large for a ‘pocket’ watch, to accommodate for the griffon’s poor eyesight, but he had managed to stuff it into a pocket without too much difficulty. Almost twenty-to… He stowed whatever remained on the map or the rest of the table. His little planning room wasn’t spacious at all, but it sufficed for what he needed it for. He picked up his officer’s cap from its hook on the wall, and placed it neatly on his head. He left the room, turning out the lamps before closing the door behind him. The door emptied into the side of an underground passage of wooden planks. To the right, it eventually ended in a secret exit. To the left, it quickly ascended up a set of stairs into the manor. Saluting the two guards who guarded the room, he turned left to climb up the stairs. From his pale-white plumage, his thin build, and his mature air, you would be excused for thinking he was at least sixty or even approaching seventy. Many griffons who met him for the first time certainly did. Said griffons were surprised to learn that the Oberstleutnant was only forty-two, incredibly young for his rank. It had taken him only twenty years to achieve it, in a system that was bloated with officers, most of them nobles with connections. Unfortunately, what a lot of his peers lacked in actual military skill, they had in influence. Thus, Ferdinand was shunted to the north, out of sight, and out of the way. He reached the top of the stairs, putting him on the first floor of his manor. Oh yes, his manor. The lack of actual military infrastructure along the border meant that Ferdinand had been granted a sizeable fund to construct the bases his troops now garrisoned. Enough had been left over afterwards to build a small manor as his command post. Ferdinand, of course, had personally helped design it, and it showed. The hallways, staircases, and even attic had been designed with defensibility in mind. By now, Ferdinand was able to pass through the halls and rooms of the manor almost without thinking, his thoughts in other places. His meeting with the officers had been a useful distraction, but now he had time on his claws. For the Oberstleutnant, this is bad. The two voices in his head fought for dominance, for him to see their side. He could call the whole thing off, let things happen. Would it really be wor- Of course it would, how stupid to think otherwise. He would be hated. Only inita- Despised. Ferdinand muttered a curse under his breath, then promptly threw his head into a nearby wall. His skull screamed in protest, but at least the voices shut up. He continued, slightly disoriented, the next few minutes a blur. When Ferdinand’s senses fully returned, he had arrived at his destination, his bedroom on the second floor. He now regretted smashing his head into the wall even more, as the headache had gotten worse. All over this plan he hadn’t fully decided on following through with. Would his subordinates even see what he saw? He would have to see. But… the uncertainty and his indecisiveness were killing him, both figuratively in his head, and literally with his head. He decided to lie down on his bed for a moment. Why had he been so afraid to debate within himself? Part of him still held back, that much was obvious. But was it possible he secretly agreed with that part of him? Would carrying through with his plan actually be the wrong thing? He couldn’t produce an answer, but he did figure out how to get one. He wouldn’t wait until tonight. Now was the time, time to gather his majors…