How to Start a War (2.7)
———Local procurement is a system that simply cannot function if the necessary supplies aren’t available locally.
A perfectly logical conclusion.
What if war breaks outside of harvest season?
What if the occupied city’s food stores are empty?
There were countless examples of this even in the Dutone War alone.
———Can’t we increase our means of transportation?
Railways, highways.
In the Star-Euro continent, inland waterways could be an option—but Elfynd’s rivers are mostly narrow streams the deeper you go into the peninsula, lacking the width and steady flow needed to be usable.
In a sense, supply routes are like arteries.
And supplies are the blood that flows through them.
If only we could increase the number of arteries extending from the heart—the nation—then we could better support the arms—the military—whose role is to strike the enemy.
But the Central Army’s jurisdiction already has no more room for expansion.
No matter how many times I look, no matter how much I think about it—there’s simply no more room.
———Are these really the only arteries we have?
Greben glanced at the western part of the Belleriant Peninsula on the large map.
It was useless.
He didn’t even need a second look.
The east coast of Elfynd, much like the west, was largely rugged, with steep mountains running north to south along the shoreline and deep, sharp inlets carved by glaciers from the dawn of creation. Only a few small towns and villages dotted some of those inlets.
There were places without even roads connecting them.
It wasn’t until one traveled far to the very tip of the peninsula that a relatively large port appeared, and only there did major traffic routes link it to the central regions of the peninsula.
It was useless as an artery.
If no artery existed in the first place, there was nothing to be done.
In the invasion plan, one of the small colonial settlements on the western base of the peninsula would be taken, and if resources permitted, a joint operation with the navy would seize the islands off the western coast of the Belleriant Peninsula. For that purpose, only the smallest field army was allocated to that front.
—What about the east?
The General Staff had also concluded that the eastern front was useless.
The lower eastern reaches of the Sylvan River, which the Dark Elves had used for their escape, did have one large shallow area, but not a single bridge spanned it.
While floating bridges could allow some troops to cross, it was impossible to extend railways from Orcsen proper.
The furthest the rails could reach was the city of Arnband, where one of the logistical hubs would be built. From there, with only supply wagons, it would be impossible to support an army. The logistics would collapse within a limited distance.
And it wasn’t just food that had to be transported.
Even if soldiers carried enough ammunition to last for a time, the daily supplies that consumed massive amounts—besides food—were fodder and water for military horses.
Water, fortunately, was abundant in Elfynd with its lakes, rivers, and wells, but careful planning was still required.
A single military horse could drink anywhere from 25 to 80 liters of water a day.
“Fresh, potable water—for just one horse!”
To illustrate with a concrete example: the Anfaughlia Brigade, personally established by King Gustav.
Since it was a cavalry-centered unit, this one brigade alone required an average of 46 tons of fodder per day, and up to 70 tons at peak consumption (the amount varied just like with human soldiers—intense exercise increased both fodder and water needs).
And it wasn’t enough to give them hay. Military horses, with their extreme physical demands, also needed nutritious feeds like oats and bean meal.
Seventy tons of fodder meant, purely by weight, 70 Orcsen Army light supply wagons.
For water, even calculating conservatively at 25 liters per horse, the brigade needed 115,000 liters per day.
Scale that up to divisions, corps, and entire armies, and…
Including food for the troops, a standard Orcsen division required 160 tons of daily consumable supplies. A corps needed 320 tons. A full army, 1,280 tons.
To support that, about four full trains of cargo wagons were needed daily.
For the entire military force, including reserves, that amounted to 11 to 12 trains per day.
Thanks to Orcsen’s extremely well-developed and interconnected railway network, and the nation’s current wealth, it was possible to support the entire projected force at the designated invasion start points.
But to Greben, the idea that all those consumable supplies would magically materialize at the forward-deployed positions after the invasion began… Well, if such a legendary magician existed, he would worship them as a god and offer them the bounty of the earth.
The eastern front, with no means of constructing such massive, long-term, long-distance logistical routes, was to host a small army on the southern banks of the Sylvan River near the border. Their role was to guard against attacks on the Central Army’s flanks and logistical lines.
“What a waste…”
A bridge. If only there had been a bridge.
Building a bridge during wartime was an option, but almost a fantasy.
They could manage a bridge for infantry and cavalry, but a railway bridge? That was massive, requiring enormous effort and time.
If they waited for such a bridge to be completed, the war would be over.
The General Staff intended for this war to end within one year, two at the most.
Even if they poured in engineers, materials, and laborers in droves, driving them relentlessly to rush construction, the army would have to halt during that time. Worse, even after crossing, there were no rail lines on the other side, meaning they’d have to lay new tracks as they advanced.
They were already planning to lay tracks from the Central Army’s invasion start points to the colonial settlements, but the distances involved were completely different.
Such a waste.
A real waste.
Just 70 kilometers from Arnband, there was a port.
And for Elfynd, a large commercial port at that.
But it was also a naval base.
The navy considered the warships stationed there their greatest hypothetical enemy—
“……………”
Greben froze.
Idiot.
I’m an idiot.
A complete, utter fool.
He looked over the map of the east again.
Ports. Ports. Ports.
The eastern coast of Elfynd, while mostly rugged like the west, also had some gentler stretches of shoreline with ports.
No doubt due to pressure from Camelot’s merchants, who regularly traveled there, the ports were unusually well-maintained for Elfynd, and connected by rail lines.
—And those lines eventually reached the capital, Tyrion.
The route to the capital was narrow, with few plains.
But there were some.
They also connected to the plains near Tyrion, where the Central Army planned its final decisive battle—
“There is. There *is* another artery! I’m an idiot! A complete idiot! There’s always more than one way to arrive at the correct answer!”
I’ve been staring at the land because I’m in the army—
That very day, the third floor of the Orcsen General Staff building descended into chaos.
After all, the Deputy Director of the General Staff and Director of Operations Bureau himself, young as he was, a man of major general rank, suddenly came charging down the halls, shouting in excitement, and barged into the Department of Military Topography. There, he nearly grabbed the department head by the collar as he made his demands.
Then, during the month-long wait for the results of those demands—the reports of that Isabella—and the following two weeks, Greben effectively placed the entire Operations Department under house arrest, driving them relentlessly, shouting, cursing, and launching an enormous undertaking.
Before long, even the staff officers from the Orcsen Naval High Command, located just a bit east of the General Staff building across Fuchstelun Boulevard, were dragged into the effort.
There was an artery. Not just roads, railways, or inland waterways.
But something far larger, far thicker.
—The sea.
What do you think about this chapter?
