Re: Blood and Iron

Spring, 1932. The embers of Seoul still glowed beneath a sky dimmed by weeks of smoke and ash, yet already the machinery of power had resumed its endless motion.

The war had not ended.

And neither had duty.

Bruno von Zehntner stood at the edge of the great map table in the temporary command center constructed on the outskirts of Vladivostok.

He and many others among both the German Strategic High Command and that of their Russian allies found it necessary to relocate closer to the front for the final days of the war.

The walls were lined with hastily constructed beams, the scent of fresh-cut wood still clinging to the cold air.

Outside, the banners of the German Empire flanked those of Imperial Russia. Inside, a war council was taking shape.

Alexei Romanov sat at the table’s head, flanked by senior Russian generals, German field marshals, and political attachés.

His face was pale but composed. This would be his first attempt at partaking in a war. A war his father had entered on their allies behalf. A war his father had passed away halfway through.

The weight on his shoulders was monumental, and he did not quite know how to handle it. He wore a uniform reminiscent of his father’s, One that reminded Bruno of the late Tsar himself.

Younger, inexperienced, but willing to do what was right and necessary for the sake of his people.

“His Majesty thanks you for your attendance,” one of the Russian generals began, his voice thick with formality, but Alexei raised a hand.

“Let us speak plainly,” the Tsarevich said. “We stand on the edge of final victory. But it must not come at the cost of our future.”

There was a silence at that. The kind of silence only raw truth could summon.

Bruno leaned forward. “Then we agree.”

Alexei turned to him. “My father trusted you more than he trusted many in his own government. He told me you would advise me fairly. I ask for that now. Not as a boy seeking comfort; but as a sovereign preparing to finish a war.”

The young man’s words echoed with steel. There was no mistaking it now. Whatever childish softness had once clung to Alexei’s manner was gone. Grief had burned it away. What remained was iron.

“The fall of Seoul and Iwo Jima,” Bruno began, turning to the assembled officers, “has brought us to the threshold. But the threshold of what? Victory? Or a protracted, attritional nightmare?”

Rommel, seated further down the table with a map folder still smudged with ash, cleared his throat. “We both know what the Japanese are. They won’t surrender. Not unless we break them utterly. And even then—”

“They may refuse out of spite,” added a Russian general. “Their code forbids surrender.”

Alexei shook his head. “Then we force them into a position where surrender is no longer dishonor; but mercy.”

Bruno nodded slightly. There it was again. The faint gleam of something worthy in the boy. Something dangerously close to idealism. But not naïveté. No, he was calculating.

“Okinawa and Busan,” Bruno continued. “If we take them both, Japan loses its ability to maintain any semblance of a forward military position. The islands become launch pads. Their heartland becomes a target.”

“We must strike fast,” Alexei said. “Before internal instability slows us. My coronation is not yet complete. My voice will not carry forever.”

“You want a joint assault?” Bruno asked.

“Yes.”

The room murmured. There had been coordination between German and Russian forces before. But this would be something far greater; a unified command structure for one final push.

“You realize,” Bruno said carefully, “that Berlin will want guarantees.”

“You may speak on their behalf,” Alexei said. “I will offer what must be offered.”

The German attachés whispered among themselves. Rommel glanced up at Bruno and gave the faintest shrug, as if to say: He’s your problem now.

“Then let us talk terms,” Bruno said.

They drew closer to the table, the map of East Asia sprawled before them. Lines marked German amphibious divisions. Russian armored thrusts. Japanese redoubts.

Bruno pointed. “Germany leads the assault on Okinawa. Russia on Busan. We establish forward operating bases within a week. We link by naval and air superiority; your Black Sea Fleet has proven itself, but we can extend supply lines by U-boat and support cruisers.”

“Our bombers will soften targets beforehand,” Rommel added. “Precision strikes. We avoid cities, minimize casualties.”

Alexei seemed to tense. “No firebombing. The civilians need not suffer because of the foolishness of their leadership.”

Bruno paused… He had never been one to prioritize mitigation of civilian casualties when it came to pursuit of total victory. If the Japanese refused to surrender he had the means to force their hand.

In theory he could go the same route the Americans had during the Pacific Theater of the Second World War in his past life.

But that would immediately spark a nuclear arms race and make the coming Second World War in this timeline all the more egregious.

No, he had been stockpiling millions of thermobaric and chemical weapons as a series of deterrents against an invasion of the German homeland, something only he truly knew about.

Fully tested, fully capable of being launched on Japan’s mainland. The problem would become whether or not these devastating strikes would embolden the Japanese resolve, or break it entirely.

Still, with the expressions his counterparts were making Bruno sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Agreed, we should try to mitigate as much damage to the civilian population as possible. But make no mistake, no war was ever won without collateral damage. It is a terrible reality you will have to understand if you wish to win this war, your majesty. To deny this fact would be to put your own people in danger, and make the conflict far bloodier, and last far longer than it needs to be.”

There was a long pause. Nobody had wanted to the tell the Tsarevich who had yet to wear his father’s crown the harsh truth of warfare.

With their advanced technological capability and total air supremacy, they felt that perhaps they might be able to maintain the illusion of a civilized war for a bit longer.

However, Bruno was not a man to mince words and maintain lies for the sake of comfort. This was war, not a knitting contest, and Alexei needed to know the truth. No matter how they proceeded civilians would die.

Alexei stood still, sucking in the cold spring air of vladivostok through his teeth. Finally, understanding why Bruno had been the way he always was. The man was a soldier who experienced some of the most brutal wars in human history first hand.

It forged his mentality into steel. And he knew that if he were to endure what was to come, he too would need to harden his resolve.

“Very well, I understand… We will try to end this with as much decency as we can manage. But if the Japanese force our hands, there will be no choice but to unleash hell upon them, and they will only have their own leadership to blame for our cruelty. Draw the orders. Present them to me by tomorrow. I will sign them in my father’s name, and mine.”

The meeting adjourned. Slowly, the room emptied.

Bruno remained. So did Alexei.

Only once they were alone did the young Tsarevich exhale and allow the weight to settle upon his shoulders. Bruno watched him for a moment, then approached.

“Your father would have approved,” he said quietly.

Alexei looked up. “I don’t know if I can live as he did.”

“You can’t,” Bruno replied. “You’re not him. And the world you inherit is not his. This world is changing, Alexei, and it is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. What we do here today will lay the foundations for what is to come, and with that in mind I need you to be strong. Your family, your nation need you to be strong.”

The boy nodded. Then his eyes darkened.

“Will they obey me when I am crowned?”

Bruno didn’t lie.

“Some will. Some won’t. That is the nature of power. But command isn’t granted. It’s taken. And you have to hold it with both hands.”

Alexei stood again, straighter now.

“Then I will.”

Outside, the snow had begun to fall again. Softly, quietly. As if even winter itself waited for the future to begin.

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