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August 15, 1941

Millicent Caldwell had firmly established her bona fides as a war reporter. Her report on the fall of Parisee had scooped the rest of the American press by half a day. What's more, the fact that her story was based on a direct interview with the victorious Chancellor Degurechaff had seen it reprinted all around the world. Her photographs had become the standard reference point for a momentous turning point in history. Whenever future students imagined the end of the war between Germania and the Francois Republic, they'd be seeing her pictures in their mind's eye.

The problem with such monumental success was that it was difficult to figure out a follow up act. She'd enjoyed working on her series of articles about the Francois Republic's effort to rebuild following the treaty of Parisee. She even felt confident that she'd been doing good, solid, investigatory journalism. She'd been the first to dig through the paperwork and report on the surprising number of Germanian companies investing in the Frankish market. Still, she couldn't help but notice that none of those pieces had landed with the same splash as her first big story on the war.

She had jumped at the chance to visit Berun as a guest of the Chancellor and get back into reporting on the still ongoing war. Unfortunately, she'd soon found herself in the same situation she'd been in while doing war reporting in Parisee. The only source of real information on the war came from government announcements. There were only so many stories she could write about the attitude of the people of Berun toward the war. Despite what her jealous rivals might whisper, she wasn't any happier to be transcribing the Germanian government's wartime propaganda than she had been to take dictation from the Franks.

Also, considering what she'd heard about the Red Army, should another big story drop in her lap with Berun being swept up in the fighting, she'd have to be very lucky to emerge unscathed the way she had from the fall of Parisee.

Even so, she was skeptical when Anna showed up at her hotel's dining room while she was eating her breakfast and offered to take her on a tour of war-torn Legadonia. Milly was frustrated with being stuck far away from the action reporting second-hand information, yes, but that didn't mean she wanted to go somewhere that she might get shot.

Milly liked to think that Anna didn't want her to get shot either. Even if she'd never been able to get a straight answer out of Anna about her real job, she felt their friendship was still genuine. While Anna would always have an eye on the interests and concerns of the Germanian government, she wouldn't callously send Milly into a war zone for no reason. Milly spent a moment thinking things over before she hit on the most pertinent question.

"Why now?"

Milly had been wracking her brains trying to find newsworthy information for a while. Anna could have helped her out at any time. Why had she waited? Especially when every day of delay was another day for the Russy army to advance. Everybody knew that the fall of Legadonia was only a matter of time.

Anna smiled. "The front has stabilized. We're confident that the Rus won't be able to take the cities of southern Legadonia."

That was big news by itself. After the Albish had fled the peninsula, everybody Milly had talked to was sure that the Legadonians were doomed. It seemed the Legadonians had more fight in them than her sources had realized. That, or they'd benefited from another one of Chancellor Degurechaff's military miracles.

"How'd that happen?" Milly asked. "Is it something to do with the eastern offensive?"

The Germanians hadn't tried to hide the fact that they had launched a major attack in the east. It had proven very frustrating, though, trying to dig out any specific information about what was going on out there. It was enough to make Milly wish she'd been born a mage so that she could just fly out and see for herself, even if the idea of the Germanians just letting her set her own itinerary through a war zone was more far fetched than the idea of Milly with orb and rifle in hand.

The one thing she knew for sure was that the eastern offensive was big. That was obvious from the sheer mass of men and material being moved around. The mood of the Germanian people was optimistic, but that could be put down to trust in Chancellor Degurechaff more than being any kind of indicator of how things were going.

"Naturally, credit has to go to the brave troops in Legadonia," Anna said. "The situation on the eastern front is far too fluid for me to say anything about it for certain."

As always, Anna only shared the information that she felt like sharing. Although, she certainly wasn't acting like Germania had suffered a major setback out east. Then again, Milly had long since given up on trying to read anything from Anna's mood. It wasn't like that kind of thing could be the basis for a news story, anyway.

"Not even a little hint?" Milly asked.

"Sorry," Anna said, stealing a piece of fruit from Milly's plate. "Although, I really do think going to Legadonia is worth your time."

"Why should I go to Legadonia just to hear a report?" Milly asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "Couldn't you just tell me whatever it is now?"

If the lines truly were stabilized well away from the city, what was the point in her visit? She'd be hearing from other people how the war was going. Which, yes, was the safe way to keep track of a war, but Anna seemed to have a specific purpose in mind for Milly's visit. In which case, she could save them both a lot of time by just spilling the details now.

"Ah, yes," Anna said. "It's only the situation on the ground that's completely stable."

"What else is there?" Milly asked. There hadn't been much action at all on the Baltic Sea, at least not as far as she'd heard.

"The air war," Anna said. "The Rus have lashed out at the cities that are out of their reach. They seem intent on dropping as many bombs as they can on innocent civilians."

Milly leaned back in her chair. She had already had the worry in the back of her mind of stray bullets. Now that Anna had mentioned it, she also had to worry about the prospect of a stray bomb falling on her head.

Milly was eager for a story, but she was no daredevil. "That sounds like a good reason to stay away from Legadonia."

"It's not that bad," Anna said. "We can send a few aerial mages to make sure you're safe."

Milly narrowed her eyes. Asking her to take a trip was one thing, but assigning aerial mages to it was quite another. Every mage was a precious asset to the war effort. Chancellor Degurechaff was known to value them particularly highly, going back to her time in the military. She would hardly brook her subordinates diverting them to some frivolous task.

"You really want me to go over there," Milly said. She picked up a strawberry from her plate and enjoyed the taste while she waited to see how much more Anna was willing to say.

"People take government reports with a grain of salt," Anna said, shrugging. "The story is more likely to be believed if you can write about things you've seen with your own eyes."

It was unusual for Anna to be so frank about her efforts to shape the news. "So you're giving me the guided tour?"

"You can go where you like once you're in the city, talk to who you like," Anna said. "The communist's barbaric acts speak for themselves. There's no need for us to stage manage anything."

Milly took a moment to think it over. If Anna was telling anything like the truth, there was a big story waiting for her up in Legadonia. If they were really going to give her free rein to interview the locals, well, Milly had faith in her own ability to sniff out any blatant lies. And with four aerial mages escorting her, she'd be safer than she was at home.

"If you say so," Milly said. "Fine, I'll go."

The Russy Federation under its communist regime was notorious for ignoring the moral standards of the civilized world. She certainly wouldn't put it beyond them to engage in deliberate attacks on civilians. And, much as she hated to think in those terms, photographs of bomb damage would help sell papers.

ooOoo

August 16, 1941

I enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee as I waited for Miss Caldwell to arrive at Usedom Island. I'd spent the previous day reviewing the work that our scientists had been doing. It was a pleasant break from my usual obligations. They had definitely been working hard since war broke out. It was too bad that most of the really interesting work was still far away from completion.

The only new toy that our military would be receiving soon was the truck mounted rocket artillery. That had mostly been a matter of figuring out how to bolt launch rails on the back of a truck so that the rockets could be fired without rolling the truck over. Even if it was simple, it would be a welcome addition to our armory. A relatively light-weight and fast moving means of artillery support was just what the doctor ordered for our troops on the eastern front.

Our eastern offensive had been a stunning success so far. It was almost enough to ease the sting of being fooled by Russy tricks for so long. Even so, it wouldn't do to get careless. The Russy Federation was huge, and boasted an enormous population. The wooden tanks we had gone up against this month could easily turn into real tanks in the months to come. We had to be ready. Our army would be tasked with holding the ground they'd taken on one side while working to advance in the other direction as well to close the pocket on the Russy invasion force.

The Albish had really come through for us. Churbull had managed to persuade Magna Rumeli to jump into the war with a mix of economic incentives and promises of favorable border adjustments with regard to Yugoslavian territory. International politics could be a sordid business, but I was willing to hold my nose and put up with it if it meant that instead of driving a Russy army out of our territory we would be capturing it wholesale.

The Allied Kingdom had promised troops to Magna Rumeli as part of the deal, in order to secure their border against Russy aggression. They'd still had some men free to take over part of the line in Yugoslavia, which in turn let us move in force to protect Legadonia. Of course, it helped that the Rus suddenly had a much more urgent front that would steal resources from their efforts to finish off the war in Legadonia.

Now, while the rocket artillery would be a boon to our army, deploying it on a large scale would also make the army even thirstier for gasoline. We were burning through oil at an alarming clip. The Unified States had plenty to sell, but if the war dragged on for too long we'd have to find new revenue streams or else start buying on credit. It was one of the many reasons that I went out of my way to court Miss Caldwell's aid in burnishing our image in the American press.

The other near term innovation Usedom Island was working on was to finally get jet engines to make the jump from laboratory testing to mass production. The first jet engined prototypes wouldn't be flying until early next year. Working on a wartime schedule, we should see jets start rolling off the assembly lines by the middle of the year. Not that first generation jets were completely invincible against sufficient numbers of propeller planes, but it would still be a nice feather in our cap.

All of the really exciting technology was still years away. Our heat seeking missiles tried to launch themselves into the sun half the time, and our efforts to build TV-guided weapons had been stymied by the limits of camera and broadcast technology. Even if it wasn't going to see use against the Rus, I was still happy that our scientists were working towards our future needs.

Our most impressive and most secret bit of technology wasn't at Usedom Island, of course. Ugar had reported to me recently that his scientists had successfully created a reactor that operated safely and produced small amounts of plutonium that had been deemed suitable for an explosive. They were working on building a larger reactor now. The final assembly of the device would take place on Reunion Island, while testing would take place on one of the abandon islands we'd recently picked up in the south Bharati Ocean.

The scientists were optimistic, but based on my future knowledge my feeling was that we were still at least two years away from a working atom bomb.

For Miss Caldwell's visit, the technology under development at Usedom Island had been stowed away. I wanted to show off some of our currently deployed technology, but I didn't want to give the world a sneak preview of what we'd be rolling out soon.

I could see the runway from the conference room window, which meant that I was able to watch as Miss Caldwell's plane touched down without any issues. She looked a bit shaky as she was helped out of the plane, but she rebounded quickly. By the time she was escorted into the conference room her appearance was immaculate. She greeted me with the grace I expected from a fixture in New Amstreldam's high society.

"Miss Caldwell," I said, "thank you for coming."

I offered her a cup of coffee that I had reheated with a quick application of magic. She accepted it gratefully enough, though she still seemed agitated as she sat down.

"It's terrible," she said, "what the Rus are doing."

It was a pity that we hadn't been more effective at stopping the Rus bombing campaign. Our initial deployment in Legadonia had focused on using our own aerial assets to disrupt the Rus invasion. Since we had thought that the Rus ground forces would eventually overrun Legadonia, we had naturally hesitated to move radar equipment up to the area. Now that the situation on the ground had turned more in our favor, we were scrambling to get proper air defenses in place.

In the mean time, I thought it was a good idea to use the Rus's aggression to score propaganda points in the Unified States.

"Yes, terrible."

I was surprised Miss Caldwell was so personally affected by a relatively light spate of urban bombing. Although, to be fair, for all of her sophistication, she was still a civilian.

"I'd heard stories," she said, "but until know I didn't truly believe they were such savage brutes."

"Well," I said, "that's not necessarily the case."

I hated to argue with somebody who wanted to criticize the Rus. However, to be effective, criticism should be grounded in fact. Emotional generalizations about foreigners could go a long way, but in the end the truth would come out.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm afraid the bombers themselves are probably flown by men who are indifferent to the destruction they are causing," I said, "not men who revel in it."

In the previous war, the tremendous loss of life at the front lines hadn't been the result of any real bloodthirstiness on the part of the participants. It was simply a natural result of evolving technology coupled to a certain worldview. Now, a new evolution of technology was bringing the same sort of risk to civilians that once was the province of the soldier alone.

"It's quite possible that the policy that led to the destruction you witnessed was laid down by some soft-handed bureaucrat who has never personally harmed a fly," I said. "Moreover, I wouldn't be shocked if similar bureaucrats were writing up similar proposals in Berun, Londinium, and even America."

If the Albish and the Americans didn't have internal advocates for strategic bombing campaigns, I'd eat my hat. I still got quiet, plausibly deniable feelers about it bubbling up through the military hierarchy once a month or so, and that was after I'd fired the first few people who kept outright advocating for it after I'd made my views clear.

"That can't be true," Miss Caldwell protested.

Civilians could hold oddly romantic notions about war. I could imagine that from a distance it was easier to weave grand narratives of the passionate clash between good and evil. In reality, I'd had more visceral dislike for half the officers on our own side than I'd ever had for most of the aerial mages I'd fought against. It's just that it was only socially permissible to shoot at the enemy.

"It's a matter of accuracy and practicality," I said. "Look."

I unrolled an aerial photograph that I had brought with me in anticipation of this conversation. I'd expected that I would have to guide Miss Caldwell a bit so that she would slant the article the way that I wanted. Her own interests would dictate much of what she wrote, of course, but I thought that at the margins I'd be able to influence how she saw things.

She studied the map for a moment. "That's New Amstreldam."

I nodded, before pointing to a visible landmark. "And here, this stadium."

Her eyes lit up in recognition. "The Polo Grounds."

I nodded, doing my best to disguise the fact that I hadn't realized the Polo Ground were still around. Well, good thing I hadn't volunteered the name.

"If we're talking about accuracy, an aerial mage could put a shot on the pitcher's rubber. A dive bomber could put a bomb on the pitcher's mound, or at least the infield," I said. "A level bomber, flying by at high altitude, would be doing well to put a bomb in the stadium. Attacking at night, in inclement weather, or against any kind of resistance sees that target circle balloon out to a mile, or several miles."

I used a pen to first put a dot on the rubber, then drew progressively larger circles to illustrate the sort of ranges that I was talking about. The sad fact is that aiming an unguided projectile is not an exact science. The only people who would tell you different were trying to sell you something.

It always amused me to hear the nonsensical claims bomb sight salesmen would make about their product. For crying out loud, we couldn't drop a bomb in a pickle barrel with a guidance system and a bombardier steering it in. Admittedly, a guided weapon could do better than the numbers I was giving Miss Caldwell, but I was hardly going to hand out those kind of details to a reporter.

"So, if the enemy has a vital target standing on the rubber," I continued. "What would you do?"

"I suppose I'd call for an aerial mage," she said.

There was my problem from the last war in a nutshell. Aerial mages weren't the most powerful weapon in the Imperial arsenal, but they were the easiest way to tackle so many different problems that we hardly got a day off.

"Ah, but the aerial mage can be detected from far away with pinpoint accuracy," I said "What's more, aerial mages are a scarce resource. Risking a mage on a deep attack mission is terribly reckless."

I tapped the small dot on the target, then moved my finger to point at the smallest circle.

"Similarly, a dive bomber has to approach its target on a straight line dive, and when it pulls out it's flying low and slow on a predictable line," I continued. "Against any kind of anti-aircraft fire, the pilot's going to be in trouble."

Dive bombers were a useful tool on the battlefield, but sending them against a hardened target was asking for a lot of dead pilots. Not that General Lergen wouldn't do such a thing, if it were worth it, but he wouldn't give such orders lightly.

"When it comes to dropping a high volume of explosives somewhere in the vicinity of your target at a relatively low risk, the level bomber can't be beat," I said. "Thus, the Russy approach: send in enough level bombers with enough bombs to saturate your target circle. You'll take out that target on the mound, and you probably don't care overmuch what else might be destroyed."

Managing people is difficult. All the more so when you are managing soldiers. Measuring who's doing well and should be praised, who's doing badly and needs a talking to, who's feeling down and needs some inspiration, it's tough. It all draws on an officer's grasp of the human psyche and ability to read the situation on an often chaotic battlefield.

There's a certain type of manager who takes look at the challenge of measuring human performance, decides that it's too hard, and instead decides to optimize for the best result on whatever number they can measure easily. That was the kind of person who liked the idea of saturation bombing. After all, it allowed for more tons to be dropped in the vicinity of the target with fewer planes shot down. The question of whether dropping all those bombs actually accomplished anything was studiously ignored in favor of focusing on making their numbers.

It was my job to stamp out that kind of thinking in my subordinates. With violence, if necessary.

"That's horrible!" she said.

I nodded. "Unfortunately, the air forces of more civilized countries are up against the same incentives. That's why I'm calling for an international conference in order to negotiate a legal framework to govern aerial warfare."

Germania had invested a great deal in its air force's ability to put bombs more or less on target. We had hardly invested anything at all in our ability to put a high volume of bombs in the general vicinity of the target. I thought it was a reasonable decision. One bomb that hit where you were aiming was better than ten scattered all over the place.

Still, it meant that we were behind in one facet of the endless technological race that was modern warfare. Thus, to really tie a bow on the situation, ideally I would have liked to get other countries to agree to outlaw the use of the capability that they'd spent so much time and effort to develop.

Of course, put like that, it was obvious that any sort of international effort to outlaw saturation bombing was dead in the water. That made it even easier for me to posture as some sort of peace-loving statesman. I needed every opportunity I could get to present myself to the Americans as the reasonable person I truly was rather than the caricature that wartime propaganda had made me out to be.

Miss Caldwell looked up after she finished scribbling in our notebook. "Will a new law do anything to stop the Rus?"

She liked to play the ingenue, but Miss Caldwell had a way of cutting to the heart of the matter when she wanted to. Obviously the Rus were never going to agree to give up on what they thought was an effective weapon. Our allies and neutral friends might at least do us the courtesy of hearing us out before turning us down, but the Rus would doubtlessly reject any such proposal out of hand.

When you put it all together, it was obvious that I was engaged in pointless posturing in a transparent attempt to claim the moral high ground. I just had to hope that Miss Caldwell would do me the courtesy of separating my answers by enough newsprint that most readers would fail to connect the dots.

"No. However, a clear set of laws will keep the rest of us from falling to their level," I said. I did my best to be smooth as I transitioned from answering the question she'd actually asked to answering the question I would have preferred that she asked. "I'm proud to say that Germania is leading the way by committing to precision bombing exclusively."

Miss Caldwell took notes without comment. It seemed she was willing to let me get away with a little bit of rhetorical sleight of hand.

"As to stopping the Rus, it has become clear that they will only respect force," I continued. "I actually invited you here so that I could show you some of the tools we intend to use to defend our airspace."

After all, if I wanted to trade access for favorable coverage, I did need to hold up my end of the bargain and give Miss Caldwell access to information that wasn't widely available. If the provided information happened to burnish our reputation for technological excellence, well, all the better.