The Saga of Tanya the Merciless

Watch the tides that ebb and flow,

Mark the paths where ships might go.

Every wave that meets the shore,

Tells us what's worth waiting for.

Tanya hummed cheerfully as she left the processing facility, where component extraction efficiency had reached new heights. The beach would make an excellent proving ground for her newly optimized units - the proximity to medical resources made it mathematically perfect for her training protocols.

"Fascinating reports from our fishing boats," she told the assembled staff officers, most of whom had been arguing for concentrating defenses around the major ports where American industrial capacity could be brought to bear. 

"Look at the debris patterns," she traced paths with her pencil. "Commercial fishing nets keep pulling up unusual quantities of American supplies. Not cargo spills - these are deliberate drops." Her smile brightened. "They're testing currents."

Colonel Weber frowned. "The Americans would never land on these beaches. Their doctrine emphasizes concentrated force - they'll target the major ports where their superior industrial capacity can establish immediate supply chains."

"Exactly why they'll choose these approaches," Tanya responded warmly. "Their own analysis will show the ports as too obvious. They've been dragging weighted sleds through these waters for weeks. Testing paths through the obstacles." She pulled out another report. "And our local fishermen report their nets catching far fewer fish here lately. Almost as if something's been disturbing the seabed."

Listen to the fishers' tales,

Watch where schools of fish set sail.

Nature's patterns shift and turn,

Showing truths that some won't learn.

The next morning found her walking the steep beaches, humming while she noted tidal patterns. A local boy followed, carrying her notebooks.

"See these shells?" she asked him kindly. "They wash up differently now. The currents have changed." She made another note. "Just like the seabirds' feeding patterns. They're finding their fish elsewhere because the seabed's being disturbed."

Her report to high command was met with skepticism. The obvious landing zones were the flat beaches near the ports. Their aerial reconnaissance showed no unusual activity in her predicted sector.

"Of course not," she laughed. "They're testing at night. Ask the fishermen who work the midnight waters. They've seen the shadows."

Deep below the waves' disguise,

Patterns form that some despise.

Trust in what the waters show,

Not just what the wise men know.

When the mining crews arrived, Tanya had already marked their priorities. Not the obvious channels, but the steep underwater approaches that others deemed impossible.

"They'll use the tide itself," she explained to the doubtful engineers. "These gradients create predictable surge patterns. Perfect for specialized landing craft." Her smile remained warm even as she added: "We'll let nature guide them exactly where we need them."

The local fishing boats kept bringing reports. Strange lights in the darkness. Mechanical sounds underwater. The high command's official analysis suggested diversionary tactics.

Tanya just hummed and adjusted her preparations. Every tide brought new signs for those who knew how to read them. Every shifted current told its story.

Mark the paths that ships must take,

When the dawn begins to break.

Nature's patterns guide them here,

Where our purpose will appear.

The machinery of necessity grew stronger through proper observation. Even the tides served efficiency, when correctly interpreted.

Train them well in waves of steel,

Till their bones know what to feel.

Every muscle, every thought,

Knows the dance that must be brought.

"It's really quite simple," Tanya explained cheerfully to her officers while watching another dawn drill. "They'll hit us here during the lunar tide. So we drill at exactly that hour, every day." Her smile remained warm as she noted which units struggled with the pre-dawn darkness. "Those who can't maintain efficiency in practice won't be trusted with the real defense."

She'd instituted a rotation - three hours sleep, three hours drill, three hours fortification work. Units that failed their timing metrics were assigned to overnight engineering details, digging positions in the darkness they feared.

"See how natural selection improves reaction times?" she hummed, reviewing the latest drill results. "Those who survive the practice schedule will be perfectly adapted for the actual landing." She made another note. "Though we should give them consequences after warning them about the practice mines. Real ones won't announce themselves."

Watch them learn through blood and sweat,

Which commands they can't forget.

Those who fail to meet their mark,

Feed the lessons in the dark.

The complaints about her methods reached high command, of course. But her daily reports showed steadily improving response metrics. Units were learning to function in darkness, to read tide patterns, to feel the rhythm of wave-timing in their bones.

"Exhaustion is such an efficient teacher," she told her aide while watching a platoon practice underwater demolitions. "Those who adapt will survive. Those who don't..." she checked another report, "are already serving other purposes in the eastern mines."

When the engineering officer protested that his men needed more rest, Tanya's laugh echoed across the beach. "The tide won't wait for well-rested defenders! But if you're concerned..." her smile remained gentle as she added his unit to the night rotation. "Practice will solve everything."

Drill them hard through surf and sand,

Till their bodies understand.

Every wave sets time and pace,

For the dance that they must face.

Her methods were producing results. Units learned to move in darkness, to read water patterns, to respond without orders. Those who couldn't adapt were efficiently reallocated. Those who survived grew stronger.

"It's beautiful really," she explained while watching another pre-dawn exercise. "Pure survival pressure creating perfect defensive responses. Though we should slightly increase the percentage of live ammunition in practice runs. Can't have them getting complacent."

The machinery of necessity grew stronger through proper preparation. Even exhaustion served efficiency, when correctly applied.