"Grandpa, I want to become a soldier."
"...What?"
Throughout my adolescence, I had silently devoted myself to my studies. At eighteen, I finally revealed my true ambition.
"Hmm, a soldier... That's a good idea. I was planning to discuss your career path soon anyway. This works out well."
My grandfather pondered my sudden declaration, then began writing a letter of recommendation.
Scratch, scratch —As he wrote with the neat handwriting, he spoke.
"With your grades, you could aim for artillery, combat engineering... perhaps even cavalry. Though the competition will be fierce, especially with those nobles who have 'von' in their names..."
"No, grandpa. I want to become an infantry officer just like my father was."
He paused, his pen hovering over the paper. When he looked up at me, I straightened my back and lifted my chin defiantly.
My grandfather, looking perplexed and contemplating whether he should send his grandchild to a battlefield, he set down his pen; ruffled his white hair and rubbed his wrinkled face as he rested his chin in his hand .
"From what I understand infantry is the least desirable branch among soldiers, with the lowest pay... Why infantry?"
"Because the paradigm of warfare is about to undergo a radical shift. Though infantry is currently looked down upon, the era when cavalry will be scorned is coming."
My immediate and unequivocal answer brought a peculiar expression to my grandfather's face. I'm sure it'll take more than few words to convince grandfather.
"Explain yourself."
"New machine guns capable of firing hundreds of rounds per minute, along with more effective artillery shells, have been developed."
At my grandfather's prompting, I continued slowly.
"During the Boer War, the Boers, armed with the latest weaponry, established defensive lines that utterly decimated the British forces. The key elements were trenches and machine guns."
"Hmm..."
"This report outlines a new paradigm for warfare. The detailed analysis is here."
I calmly retrieved the documents from my bag and placed them neatly on the desk for easy viewing.
My phrasing must have been effective, because grandfather picked up the report and examined it carefully.
"You compiled this yourself?"
"Yes. I synthesized information from various newspapers and fragmented reports I could get my hands on."
"...Impressive."
The corners of grandfather's lips curled upward slightly. He seemed genuinely impressed by the report's professional and lucid content.
Maybe he never expected an eighteen year old to write in this depth. It was understandable that he'd be surprised.
Grandfather soon began flipping through the report with focused attention.
"I knew the casualties were high, but... a hundred thousand?"
"While disease-related casualties are high, the crucial point is that large-scale battles can no longer guarantee victory."
Any German with a basic understanding of military affairs would grasp the implications of this statement.
The battlefield is unforgiving. It is an environment where natural selection manifests more starkly than anywhere else.
Whether soldier, officer, general, or nation—
Those who fail to adapt are culled, while the adaptable seize the places of the fallen.
This means...
"...So you're saying infantry will become the dominant force on the new battlefield?"
My grandfather continued to struggle, fidgeting with the documents.
"But unless a massive war erupts to prove this theory, the German Army will never accept it."
He shook his head, as if admitting defeat.
"You know how conservative the military is, right? Especially those Junker bastards-they'll reject you even more because of your lineage."
"..."
"In the end, if war doesn't break out, nothing will change. The infantry will remain a despised branch, with low pay and little respect."
"War," I said quietly after listening to him. "It will happen."
"...!"
Thud.
Grandfather set down the document and spoke in a chilling tone.
"...Don't be stubborn. This is the Belle Époque."
"There is no such thing as eternal peace. His Imperial Majesty the Kaiser's reckless actions are making war an increasingly inevitable reality."
"No, we are civilized people. In the end, we will..."
"Europe today is a powder keg, and its leaders are merely smoking cigarettes atop the armory."
I gazed down at my grandfather with cold detachment and recited the words of a great man whom no German could ignore:
"A single spark will ignite a war that will consume us all."
The words of Otto von Bismarck, Chancellor of the German Empire.
As a brilliant diplomat and chancellor of a great power, Bismarck possessed remarkable foresight.
"The foolishness brewing in the Balkans will inevitably ignite an explosion."
The Sarajevo Incident.
Everything began when a Serbian assassin shot and killed the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand.
Bismarck had accurately predicted how World War I would erupt.
"Chancellor Bismarck said that the powder keg in the Balkans would explode someday, though he couldn't say when. I'll go further."
My grandfather licked his parched lips.
"Five years."
The year was 1909.
And the outbreak of World War I...
"Within five years, a massive war will engulf the world."
1914.
***
Late at night.
He's a genius child with such keen sight, Augustus Weber Senior thought.
Even as a child, he made analyses that were almost prophetic. And none of them ever proved wrong.
Following his grandson's advice, Weber Senior had invested in several places, amassed wealth, and cultivated a vast network of connections.
His grandson had never lost first place in any subject, and unlike many geniuses and gifted child, he wasn't arrogant. On the contrary, he was so polite and rigidly maintained boundaries with his own grandfather that it felt almost awkward.
Rumors had already spread among the nobility that the Kingdom of Württemberg had finally produced a true genius.
But...
"He's too radical... Even if this is true..."
Weber Senior paced restlessly through the lounge when his gaze fell upon a forgotten pack of cigarettes.
Click.
After a moment of hesitation, he shakily pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
A faint glow flickered in the dimly lit room.
"...Sigh."
As nicotine filled his lungs, his racing heart began to calm.
"Hah... Too radical..."
He had never heard anything like this before.
A powder keg exploding in the Balkans, igniting a war across Europe between the Entente Powers and the Central Powers.
And as if that weren't enough, a terrifying prophecy foretold that a new weapon would spill the blood of all Europeans.
It sounded like something out of a novel, yet...
"...Still."
Erin's father, Weber Senior, thought to himself, "If I don't believe my own son, who else will?" He resolved to trust Erin.
Weber Senior smoked for a long while before stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray and rising from his seat. To help his grandson, he needed to act immediately.
"First, I'll need to edit this report appropriately," he muttered, tucking the document into his briefcase.
A plan began to form in his mind, layer by layer.
At least until the war... he had to ensure his grandson walked only a path of flowers. Compared to what Erin had already achieved, this assistance would seem almost modest.
Let's see... the editor's address... and contacts who know high-ranking officers in the German Army...
***
A Stuttgart publisher released a provocative book, its genre unclear—part report, part novel.
"I heard this book was written by Weber Senior's famous grandson."
"Hmm? You mean that child prodigy everyone's been talking about?"
"Ha, look at this. It's about a massive war engulfing all of Europe."
"Oh... that sounds interesting. But he doesn't actually believe this, does he?"
"Surely not."
Though fantastical in some respects, the book's plausible plot and detailed content sparked controversy and earned Der Weltkrieg a cult following.
Its meticulous weaving of politics, diplomacy, and military strategy, all grounded in historical accuracy, earned it high praise: "There are those who haven't read it, but no one who's read it only once."
The novel's appeal and Weber Senior's efforts gradually spread it among military circles.
One of the highest-ranking figures to take notice was Paul von Hindenburg, the Infantry General and commander of the 4th Army Corps.
"So... this isn't just a novel?" Hindenburg asked.
"While there may be some dramatization, the overall framework reflects my grandson's predictions," Weber Senior replied, standing respectfully before him as he produced documents from his coat and handed them to Hindenburg. "This is the original manuscript, containing more technical and detailed information."
"..."
Hindenburg, who had reluctantly agreed to meet at his adjutant's urging and initially considered it a waste of time, reluctantly accepted the documents.
He soon became deeply engrossed in thought.