“To bombard cultural buildings and establishments matters not to the average Orlish airman for a simple reason: he is taught from childhood only how to fly and bomb those below him—not to value symbols of Orlish culture. To him, they are nothing but extra fanciful targets.”

- Minister Anne Wittfield on the terror bombing tactics of the Federal Air Force.

+++

Central Orland

Archduchy of Löt

The frontlines seemed strangely silent to Amelie and William. Their HMLV was parked behind them, their two bodyguards from the OPM watching the two from behind, one operating the fifty caliber machine gun on top of the vehicle. Amelie on the other hand held a binoculars as she observed the distant, destroyed towns kilometers away, obscured by the hills and elevations around the fields.

Just then, a second later, a lone Löwe tank appeared on the highway. Amelie tracked it with her binoculars, as the tank rushed out of the area—the armor blocks that she remembered as ‘Explosive Reactive Armor’ on its sides were somewhat stripped off, and its armor itself on the turret contained burn marks.

“Those guys must be leaving the combat zone,” William said, looking around the skies. “Hey, I think we need to move.”

“Wait,” Amelie insisted, watching as a sudden artillery strike struck one of the destroyed towns ahead of them. “What are they doing over there?”

William chuckled.

“Holding the frontline?”

“The gunfire and stuff,” Amelie said curiously, lowering her binoculars. “It’s back.”

“Course it is,” William shifted uncomfortably, looking at the trees around them. Quite frankly, being on the side of the road near a bunch of trees made them well hidden from any sudden drone attacks, but William knew those buzzers could be anywhere anytime, so he insisted on leaving. “Hey, we really gotta move out now.”

“Alright,” Amelie said. “Can we check out one of the bases nearby?”

William sighed, checking his notes.

“Nearby is a position held by the 312th Armored Battalion,” William said. “Just, eight kilometers west of us. If you wanna talk to those tankers, sure, but like, I think most of them are out in combat, and—”

“I absolutely wanna talk to them!” Amelie insisted. “Those men, they’re fighting so hard for the Kingdom. A surprise visit right when they’re fighting against a very important enemy offensive is absolutely crucial. I need to see the state of my men on the frontlines.”

William tiredly smiled.

“Alright…you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

And so, they drove straight into the town held by the 312th. The journey was short and marked with Amelie anxiously watching the skies for anything that might attack them. On the road, too, occasional HMLVs, heavy military trucks, or SPGs passed by them, many not minding them.

It was quite the bumpy ride though. The entire road itself seemed to be filled with holes from artillery, and when Amelie looked at the green fields to her side, they were much the same. Filled with endless craters. The wounded soil of her homeland was right in her eyes.

They soon stopped at the destroyed town’s checkpoint. Outside, Amelie noted that there were a few camouflaged REGAL SAM launchers, radars, and antennas parked nearby, alongside two parked Löwe tanks on the entrance. The troops that met them at the checkpoint allowed William to pass through quickly, and within a few minutes, Amelie was standing beside William in front of dozens of disgruntled tankers.

Naturally, Amelie mustered a nervous smile at them.

“Soldiers of Orland!” She tried to declare proudly, standing on a shoddy bench near one of the residential buildings turned into military kitchens used by these men. “I am…well, here! To check on you. As you well know, right now you are facing quite an awful offensive from the rebels on the other side. Thus, I would like to ask what you are struggling with, and what you need from us to beat them all back!”

A rustle of dried leaves. A random HMLV blasting some sort of rock music passed on the streets. And a distant echo from an artillery shell when it exploded. But they remained silent. She waited for a bit, but nothing. Amelie tried to hold up her cheeky smile, but again, the men in front of her remained stone-faced silent. For a second, she started to doubt herself.

Am I stupid? Why am I here?

She immediately closed her eyes in frustration, shooting down that evil voice that tempted her to retreat.

“Is she like…the friggin Queen?” One of the young, greasy-faced tankers asked his comrade, who replied in an equally hushed tone.

“Yeah, man. I saw her a lot on TV. I think she’s the Queen, yeah.”

“Oh, the Amelie girl?”

“How’d you morons not know who our Queen is?” One chimed in with a frown.

“I dunno man, they all look the same to me.”

“Gentlemen,” William called out, his officer voice taking the attention of the tankers. “Her Majesty, Queen Amelie Ludendorf, is asking what you all need in battle. I believe she needs your answers. No pressure though.”

William! I feel even more embarrassed now!

“Food!” Someone shouted from behind. “I’m tired of the crap rations, Queen! Give us real food!”

What?! But I thought that problem was resolved ages ago.

“We need some spare parts,” someone said with a clear frown, his arms crossed. “Our tank’s optics are like half-dead. They sprayed us with their twenty-fives like crap, man.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Minister Wittfield told me that she’s sending everything the Army needs. How are they lacking in spare parts?!

“Give those arty guys some ammunition, Miss Amelie!” Someone shouted too. “They’re crap now…they keep denying our requests for arty support because of shortages. Come on, can you guys at the rear at least fix that crap please?”

She also said we’re sending them enough ammunition. Even General Albrecht assured me of that!

“We saw that those Royal Guard girls are getting all the newer toys!” Someone shouted in a really angry manner. “Why are they getting all the upgrade packages nowadays?! They’re driving around with their new shit, while our replacement thermals date back two decades ago! How is that fair?! They even get all of the new anti-drone APS stuff, when they don’t even get deployed much in the frontlines!”

What?

“Yeah! Even our replacement tanks come straight from the old stockpiles instead of the new runs, we get the shitty armor types! They drive EP4Bs. The replacement guys drive here with ancient ass EP2As!”

What?

Amelie awkwardly turned to William.

“Uhm…hey, what’s an ‘EP4B’ or ‘EP2A’?”

William coughed.

“Your Majesty, the Löwe Main Battle Tank series is divided between multiple major variants. Starting from its introduction in the 1980s, was the base Löwe model. Throughout the years, it has been upgraded again and again, denoted that way. EP4B means ‘Equipment Package 4 B’. Meaning it’s the fourth major upgrade and the B subvariant. Most of our tanks in the front are EP3As. Most of our stockpiles are old EP1As and EP2As. Most tanks used by the Royal Guard are the EP4B variant—which contains all of the new upgrades, for drone defense, remote-controlled machine guns, up-armor packages, the newest sensors, and spall liners. Now, as for the main difference between the A subvariant, which is used by elite Army formations, to the B subvariant used by the Royal Guard—is its quality of life upgrades such as air conditioning.”

Amelie gulped. That…doesn’t sound nice. Doesn’t sound very nice at all. So that was why these guys had some resentments.

“Uhm…why is the Royal Guard getting the best ones?”

William smiled.

“Our lovely Defense Minister and Economic Minister obviously still hold their own favorites, Your Majesty. Though, to be fair, the Army rejected the EP4B variant in favor of the EP4A variant since they hate giving too expensive and hard-to-maintain QoL systems to their men…, and, the Royal Guard’s armored KDUs are like a fraction of the Army’s, so…well, it’s whatever on that part.”

Amelie awkwardly turned in the direction of the tankers.

“Alright, I see…I heard your problems, soldiers of Orland. Are these problems shared by other units of the 10th Army? Or of your respective brigades?”

One of the tankers stepped forward.

“Obviously, Missy,” he replied, clearly refusing to give Amelie any dose of respect. “We’ve been fighting and dying for a while already. It’s bad. If you wanna ask how bad it is, it’s worse than what you think, Your Majesty. Our three companies are supposed to have thirty-eight Löwe tanks down here. We only got like twenty-five here in total…for weeks already. The last time we were full-strength was nine months ago.”

“Are they sending you reinforcements?”

The tanker laughed.

“Course they do. They just die faster than the rate of newbies coming in. Today we lost five guys from two tanks early in the morning,” he frowned at Amelie. “We’re gonna lose more later.”

“I…I know that,” Amelie admitted. “But, we are trying our best to train the people being sent here decently, hence the delays. Actually, if I may so ask, what do you people prefer? That we train them longer, or…”

“Train them longer,” the tanker replied, before chuckling. “Though maybe you all should drag the ladies you are sending here more on the mud to knock them down a notch. They’re all arrogant and stupid.”

“You guys…had women already?” Amelie’s eyes widened. “Where are they?”

“The morons drove themselves to death. They thought they were better than us, but alas…” he laughed. “Seems like in the face of death, there is quite a sense of equality between us. Quite funny if you ask me.”

That’s such a cruel thing to say. Amelie almost half-wanted to slap the face of the man, but she reminded herself that these people kinda did have a reason to resent her and…the women she was sent here. So I gotta train people longer and harsher…why would training them harsher even help? Ugh…these guys and their opinions.

Still, she imagined there was some value in their words.

“Okay, I should say, I’ve heard your problems and needs now,” Amelie said. “I have another question though. To all of you. Why are you all here?”

The soldiers looked at each other, quite unsure, before they responded one by one.

“Because the government said so.”

“Yeah, it’s required. For us men. And even women too.”

“You guys called us here, right?”

“I like war,” an older one said. “Makes me feel alive.”

“Killing rebels!” Another one said. “Because…because they do awful stuff, and things you guys say on the TV.”

“For ‘Freedom’ and stuff! Or whatever you guys say.”

“Because our comrades are here too.”

“I shoot people and they pay me to buy crap if I survive,” one of the tankers grinned. “Makes good sense.”

Quite the…

Amelie sighed.

None of them even knows what they’re fighting for.

“Well, I see then,” Amelie tried to smile. “But I just wanna say. I am not keeping you here for a bad reason. You are all here because you are fighting…for change. I promise you, as I’ve always done, that once this war is over, we shall build an Orland for everyone. So I am thankful. Please…do your best to get back home.”

There wasn’t much of a response, except for a few hushed whispers.

“But we ain’t got a home, man.”

“Just let her have her moment.”

Amelie turned a bit redder as she heard it, at last, she decided to just thank them before vacating with William, with the two returning to their HMLV.

“Well…erm…those guys were quite…”

“You got used to the more educated officers and grunts,” William said. “The 312th is a second-rate unit. That, Your Majesty, is your average uneducated young man.” He then chuckled. “All those guys know is firing their guns, driving their tanks, fixing shit, and of course, eating and shitting. Don’t expect much political literacy from them except ‘government bad’, and well, to be fair, they are right.”

“Oh…they…” Amelie looked back at the tankers, watching as they dispersed, with many already goofing around with each other, playing cards, drinking, or smoking. “Well…that seems quite an awful way to live.”

Amelie clenched her fist a bit.

“See? This is why I wanted to visit the frontlines.”

“Amelie?”

Amelie turned back to William.

“How else would I be reminded about the people I am sacrificing and the promises I gave them if I didn’t?” Amelie looked back at them. “They don’t even remember my promises. But I swear…one day…for those who survive…”

She watched as an officer shouted at the crew of one of the parked Löwes, telling the crew to get up. In seconds, the scattered crewmen left whatever they were doing, rushing inside, as their turret turned forward—clearly preparing for another mission. Another tank also revved up from behind them, most likely, the other tank of the section being prepared for the deployment.

“I’ll make sure that my promises will come true. Even if they don’t believe it.”