Logistics were the most important part of war, and the first thing that had to be secured. The longer the front stretched, the more important logistics became. Fortunately, this was an age of advanced technology. Even basic food could be replaced with high-tech nutrition bars; eating just one provided an entire day's nutrients. But there were clearly other things more important than the soldiers' rations.
For example, the soldiers' guns and ammunition. Ammunition mattered most; guns actually cost less than bullets. Then there was the energy needed to power Tactical Mecha. These things were often more important than soldiers' lives. After all, everyone here knew that Tactical Mecha cost more than human lives. The propaganda claimed that every person mattered more than the Federation's property, that every life in the Federation was priceless, but everyone knew those were just pretty words from the people at the top.
But common knowledge was one thing. Even if people knew a Tactical Mecha was worth far more than their lives, they would never willingly die for one. Instead, things like that bred resentment toward their superiors. When the war went poorly, that resentment would slowly build inside them. After all, no one wanted to simply accept their fate and go to the front lines to die.
Even if they won, what would it change? The victory would belong to the Federation. What would they get? Glory?
What use did something discarded after it had served its purpose have for glory?
In the trench, a soldier's fingers gently rubbed the hopelessly crumpled cigarette in his hand. After hesitating for a long time, he closed his eyes as though he had made some sort of decision, but still did not put it in his mouth.
*Not yet. Not yet. It wasn't the end yet. Save