Story I am writing

[Cameron M. Romefeller]

Chapter I: Origins One...two....three....four.

Upon the ground laid a poor boy who happened to have a military draft card on the day the Revolution broke out, his mind driving him to come to the aide of the rebellion. His poor soul found himself in front of myself, and of course I had to help him. I stared from behind the tree at his wounded body, the temple of the Gods punctured by a sniper bullet to the gut of the boy. His face shown fear, death, want. I wanted to help him so much, as this was my job itself. I then felt my feet make the decision for me. The Winter wind pushed through my hair under my fallen helmet as my legs carried me at speeds I couldn't describe, yet, it felt like an eternity.

Approaching the boy itself was dangerous if not deadly. The battlefield was still very much alive with bullets and daggers, waiting to plunge deep into their next victim and to put the Medic Corps on yet another patient in danger of dying. This was my duty and my job; to save the people so that they may continue their lives with the memory of the pain or the complete lack of depending on how the mind reacted to getting shot or stabbed. Soon I was automatically throwing my medic bag down and beginning my work on the poor boy. Ice cold scissors in my hand cut through the uniform he was wearing to reveal the full extent of his wound.

I was out of my league.

The hole upon his stomach was a large gaping one. Blood pooled inside the wound where his intestines would normally sit, instead the intestines shaken around by the sniper bullet. Sad fact of the war is, is if he lived the Gods were watching him ever so closely and loving him. I caressed his cheek to try to get a sensory response, to my efforts showing him looking at me in agony.  The wound stared at me deeply, and made me think of how I'd counter such a thing, to which I reached for my medical bag and went to work. Bullets whizzed all around us, one grazed my shoulder lightly, leaving a light hole in my tunic. The enemy soldiers were approaching rapidly, to which I began to drag the soldier back, a trail of blood behind him. We finally reached a little defensive spot, to which  I decided to make some sort of a stand, throwing myself to the radio and screaming into it.

“COMMAND, THIS IS FRONT POST DELTA, WE NEED REINFORCEMENTS OR POSITION WILL BE LOST! PLEASE READ!” I had never screamed so loud in my life it seemed, as fear rushed from my feet into my neck and through my spine to my head, resulting in a headache. The radio screamed to life in response. “Identify! We need an identification!” the radioman bellowed back at me, over the sound of heavy artillery. I tried to remember what was going on, the heat of battle forcing my brain into auto mode. “Corporal Elysse Eliot, First Royal Infantry, ID number 340032!” I shouted back, and the radioman let out a sigh of relief.

“How bad is it?” I put my helmet on and looked up from the small wall we were behind, to which I was   nearly hit in the face, falling back down and responding. “We have at least a Brigade here, looking to be Republicans from the capital, over.” Then silence was over the line, and I went back to working on the soldier who was wounded heavily. He was now looking at me more with fear and pain. He had to be young, younger then myself at least and I was 19. He was a brother in the revolution, to which we supported Queen Alice VI to take the throne of Kalonia back at Ninsk. It was time to take down the Democracy that had so forth taken our rights to form a Royalist Party and ordered Alice to leave the nation. She was a Kalonian just as we were all. It's not like we were absolutists either, we were far from it. We liked a Parliament and we loved to have elections. The Democracy wanted to put us down. We were hurdled into communities of slums for our beliefs. They told the general populace “It was for the good of all.” No longer will we stand for such an endeavor.

Then I found  myself in the middle of a winter forest with a dying kid, with bullets flying all around me. It seemed that this would be the end of my days, which I thought was a bit too soon. They were close enough that  I could hear footsteps. I reached for a sitting bolt-action M-10 Rifle, the cold bolt stinging my hand but none the less it was needed. The dead soldier it belonged to had clips, so I took the clips from him and pulled back the bolt. Empty. Quickly, I pushed a stripper clip into the notch on the bolt, and pushed down to fill up the rifle. Pushing the bolt forward, I slowly brought myself up and let off a round before ducking down and reloading the bolt. They stopped...and I heard a click. I felt it roll of my back...a grenade. I froze before forcing myself to thaw and lobbing it back to them, soon blowing up in a group of them.

Reinforcements had to be close. They just had to be, or my death would be swift. Suddenly, a spike of pain at the back of my head caused me to fall to the ground, seemingly limp. Pain surged into me as a Democratic soldier pulled my head up to look at his face, holding a pistol to my face. He screamed at me, but I couldn't hear his words. My eyelids were heavy, fear inside me coursing into my thoughts and through my body in pulses of fear and anxiety. His screaming still didn't tune into my ears until he suddenly clutched my hair and shook me. I responded with a hoarse “Stop it”, but to no avail. Was this the end of my life? Was this the conclusion of my days? The tears rolled down my face and dripped onto my blood stained tunic, while they executed the boy while holding me on my knees. I felt angry and despair. One shot to the head was his death, and at least it was quick. I wanted to murder all of them, every single one of them for their actions. I shouted out in tearful anger, only to receive a pistol whip for my troubles. I felt my vision fade away slowly, and quietly.

The next thing I remember after that is feeling myself being tossed around before suddenly laying still..followed by someone grabbing me and rolling me over, and shaking me. “Wake up Corporal! Wake up!” I slowly opened my eyes and saw a Major shaking me. My tunic was opened wide, as well was my undershirt and the rest, with my breasts very tender. I shook my head in shame, knowing they had taken a feel while they had dragged me away, but this Major of our Revolution had saved me the fate of being a comfort soldier for the Democratic forces. I breathed a sigh of relief and covered myself, him covering me in a greatcoat in the back of a jeep. The air was filled with burning oak wood and burning bodies. Many of our captured female soldiers were subjected to rape almost immediately upon capture, but at least I was lucky enough not to. Though I bet the fact that they tried to immediately get a feel at my chest is what stopped them from running to a safe distance and therefore, foolishly let the reinforcements torch and shoot them. He looked at me with worry, a young adjutant he had to be. He had to be about the age of 20, or around my age at least. His slick brown hair hung down the back of his uniform, long from non-care. His concern was almost like a loving lust, which he couldn't deny.

“So Sir, why are you looking at me with such infatuation?” I asked with a near-cute inquisitiveness, only to result in his deep blushing and fumbling for words. It was hilarious indeed, something such as this was funny, almost ignorant, in time of war.  He finally managed to squeak out a “Maybe I am, so what if I am?” to which I made a face of sadness. He seemed to fumble greatly with his words again as he tried to reconcile his error, to which I giggled for the first time in a long time. “Oh come now, it was a joke. What's your name?” I asked, to which he responded meekly “James MacAllen.” I smiled and returned the feeling.

“Elysse Eliot.”

I tried to extend my hand out to shake his, but falling short and in pain. They must have handled me a lot. I frowned at my shortcoming but he smiled. “Just relax, and wait until we get back to base. You need to rest. Your actions saved an entire front you know.” I was a bit shocked. How could my actions have done such a thing? I looked at him with a confused look, and he finally responded with a look of confidence. “General Duncan of their forces was leading here, and we were able to shell his convoy with your information. You saved the Revolution.” I was shocked.

I..saved the revolution?

Once we reached the camp, I was taken into a room to sleep in, where I slept for a few hours. It was the first sound sleep I had been granted in a few months since this revolution began. When I came to consciousness, I looked around the room. The Major was sitting in the corner watching over me, and the room was basically empty. My chest still hurt a lot, more then it should so they were quite rough with me. I hated that greatly, that I was used for a man's feeling pleasure for a bit until their daft nature let them be ambushed. I was sort of proud to be a girl at that point. Just because I had an average chest and a military figure literally saved an entire front from destruction. Who knew? Regardless of that, I looked at the Major who suddenly noticed I was awake. He quickly got out of his chair and walked over to me with a pleading nature of worry. I asked him. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” he asked in a concerned manner.
“Yeah, I am. My chest hurts a little but that’s about it.” I said
“Would you like me to massage your chest then?” he stopped, realizing what he had said, blushing new kinds of red I had never seen.

I giggled at his flustering, and smiled. “No Sir, I don't think that will be necessary.” His word failure was painted across his eyes like he had just stolen money from a bank and was forced to return it. I sighed. “Don't take it so hard, it was only a mess up. I'm fine..a bit hungry, but fine.” His response was quick and calculated, running to get some rations from the mess hall. We might have been rebels, but we were a somewhat well-organized rebel force, ready to take on the Government with all our fury and anger. Our military commander was Field Marshal Earnest Linova, who was a veteran of 50 plus years of military service and was a Lieutenant General upon defecting. He turned our group from a disorganized group of angry rebels into an efficient and well-trained army in every field we had. I was trained to be a Medic, and did my job to the best of my ability. Our army also had another advantage; we allowed women into our ranks, and that many of our staff officers were women as well. This meant we had a bigger pool of recruitment and better numbers. Our revolution would succeed and all would be well, or at least we hoped that all would be well.

The food he brought back was delicious rations. He brought back a bowl of deer stew and a side of white rice from the south, to which I confused him by sticking the ball of rice into the stew and letting it soak. He sat there to help me, and I could tell he has a love for me. I don't know, I was feeling a similar feeling deep inside me, but I couldn't just rush into things. After all, this is a war. People die. I could die tomorrow or he could perish in a manner that would be unfitting to his looks. It was almost more then I could stand honestly. I mean, I fought for my beliefs and fought for my opinions, but people still had to die in the name of Monarchy. Regardless I worried for his safety and wondered why he had such a love for me while he just met me.

He began to feed me as my arms decided to not cooperate with my brain and wants and he put a spoonful of rice and broth into a mouth. Some delicious food back at last, something I missed while being on the field. Usually, our daily meals would consist of poorly made coffee, with hard biscuits dipped in, finished off with some old pork and potatoes. It tasted akin to a wellington boot, but we ate it anyway. We had to eat it. What else were we to eat unless we grilled up tree bark off the nearest tree? So I refrained from complaining mostly, then I tasted this food. This food made me jealous. How come the base operators got the good food while we were nearly eating tree bark!? It was disgusting to me to say the least. Midway through him feeding me like a child, I looked down at my hands. The stained blood of my hands had dried. Inside, I could feel intense emotions build. I couldn't tell at the time, but my eyes were dripping tears. The boy I had failed to save, and that was shot before my eyes, screamed in my head. James shook his head and put down the spoonful of food, which I didn't see him do. He then hugged me, my face in his shoulder now. He rubbed the back of my head softly, like he had seen this before at least once. I was at the mercy of my emotions and now himself.

“Hey..hey now...his death relieved him of all pain...”

I felt myself stop, and surge with anger. How could he just say that? How could he just stop and suddenly be a-ok? WHAT nerve does he have to not be sad!? “Listen he-” He pressed his finger to my lips and shook his head. “Believe me, I do care...” I was now in a state of shock. How did he know I was thinking that!? How could he have known that I was feeling that exact way!? This is insane, not right..no it can't be.

“How...did you know?”

CHAPTER II: War and Politics

I had fallen asleep with him sitting in the chair next to me. That night, I didn't sleep well at all. Dreams of the young boy's face, of my brother and sister, of my mom and dad...everyone invaded my head last night. Each time I awoke, James made sure I was okay after I concluded gasping for air and shaking. Then I'd sleep, only to be forced back into consciousness by another bad memory or scene. All I knew is that I had to go see Field Marshal Earnest Livona to talk about something. I really didn't want to, as I thought it'd be a reprimand for failing to save a kid, or would it be an award? I didn't know, but I thought I didn't deserve an award at all. When it was 6:00 AM, I awoke for the last time and went to go get a shower.

The feeling of showering was an amazing feeling indeed, as all the grime washed off my skin. I finally felt clean for the first time in about two months, with my raggedy greasy hair and rough dirty skin, I could barely take it. My chest was still a bit tender, so adorning a bra with my dress uniform wasn't what I really wanted to do, but I was going to go see the Field Marshal, so I couldn't just walk in obscene-like. I came out of the bathroom wearing my tunic and my dress skirt. My dress skirt wasn't a pencil-skirt like the Republicans, no, it was a short tanker's skirt. We had run out of traditional skirts so I ended up with a short tanker's skirt. I didn't complain really, it felt way better. Long stockings and my flats completed the uniform as James looked at me. He smiled. “You clean up well.”

I laughed.

“Good to know someone's paying attention to all this detail.” I know I’m leading him on now, but I was having a great time doing so. He looked at me confused, and then nodding in a happy tone of air. Walking out of the barracks, I saw the moving of troops to the front. Two Fox Tanks moved out towards the front, sporting 105mm cannons and several Machine guns attached to the tank itself. A platoon of soldiers from my Division, the First Royal, marched behind the tanks. Trench warfare had evolved at this point to make the no-mans land that occupied the middle of the nation. The land was scarred, and it was cold. I treated more cases of frostbite then anything. The cold was a murderous mistress indeed.

I made my way to the command post. The HQ part of the command post was an old Alunist Church, decorated with soldiers and people running back and forth. Computers were glaring brightly with life. People always asked why we used out-of-date weaponry in this war. The answer is so simple; we can't find anything else. All we can say is Thank Alun that the Republican Forces didn't own very many modern jets and the like. We had some basic old-war tech going for us, and some classical clothing as well. Old First World War tunics graced our soldiers. We looked like a model army from the old times where wars were gentlemanly and honourable. I pushed open the large oak doors of the church and suddenly, I was in a room of beautiful stained glass, shimmering down onto the floor of the church. This beautiful light was interrupted occasionally by the boots of a walking officer or of two officers talking.

I walked straight through the beams of light in the glass, feeling like I was in some sort of a divine light. I walked around the altar and to the door, in which the FM had taken refuge to do work. I knocked on the door, and returned to me was a gruff “Enter”. Slowly, I turned the doorknob and pushed forward, to my amazement the door was a pull door. The sudden feeling of stupidity rushed over me as I pulled the door open and closed it behind me quickly. There sat Field Marshal Earnest Livona. The FM was a decorated man, his medals the first thing my eyes seemed to dart to. The gray hair perched atop his head flowed long down to his ears. He had the wrinkles of war all over him, with a deep colour of blue in his eyes. His deep green tunic and belt that slung over his shoulder had all the fixings of a Monarchist General. He looked up from his desk, the kind demeanor of an old man painted across his face. Something about it made me feel more...

More...at peace.

He smiled, followed by a pouring of two glasses of scotch. Something of an old Kalonian tradition, which is, that when a high officer talked to you in their office, you had a glass of alcohol with them. I took the glass he offered me and I smiled, taking a sip as he did. His face was that of someone who had seen war, but either didn't care or felt the need to be happy to cope with everything they've seen. He began to speak in this voice that made everything seem very calm.

“Welcome Corporal Eliot. I've summoned you here for a very important reason.”

Now the nervousness came over my body. My legs shook out of his view in pure adrenaline infused fear. He looked like he was happy, and beside him sat a box. I knew the decorum of a medal box. It looked like one, but I couldn't figure why it was in a green felt case and why it was larger then normal. He picked up the box and set it on the table before me, opening the box. I think I almost passed out there in pure surprise.

The Cross of Valor and the rank of Staff Sergeant

He stood up and walked over, as I also stood in amazement. Why am I in such a fiasco over a medal? Well the Cross of Valor isn't just some second rate marksman medal. Only two-thousand and thirty-seven..er...eight have been awarded in the history of Kalonia since it's inception in the year 1374. The rank in there also was a big deal. They were shoulder broads with three rounded pieces of metal and a black metal bar that went under the three rounded pieces of metal. I have just jumped literally two full ranks and now lead a squad, or could even lead a platoon in the stead of a Lieutenant. He smiled as he put on the dress shoulder broads and finished, standing before me.

“Your courageous actions have warranted you the most high award given by the monarchy, and a full commission as a squad commander. You will serve under Major James MacAllen for training. You are dismissed, as I want you back here later to meet your squad.”

He tipped the scotch back and drank, as did I. With a smile on my face, I exited the makeshift-HQ and made my way towards the barracks in which I resided. People looked at me with amazement and surprise, the award hanging down my neck and rattling as I walked. The feeling of the frozen dirt under my flats made me think of something. Have I become hard? No...not hard as in sexually hard, but in a manner of personality. Have I become more closed? Have I become less talkative? I pondered this when I walked into the barracks, seeing James standing there, looking impressed. “They gave you that award? The highest single award ever given out by the Monarchy?”

To be fair, I feel on top of the world at this point.

“Yes, they gave me this and a Staff Sergeant commission under you.” I looked into his eyes and saw them light up secretly with excitement and happiness. I smiled and looked him down, and he knew I knew about his feelings. I smiled. “I can see you have a bit of a liking for me.” I said, sending his face ablaze. He smiled. “Y..y..y.yes” He said, his face bright red and my face almost laughing hard at this. He then shook his head. “I'm not worth it, am I?”

This made me instantly sad and angry. How could he not be worth it? He's worth many a thing to me, and I wouldn't let him think otherwise. Then again, I just met the man. I'm not feeling up to relationships with someone I just met while I'm living in post attempted rape. He probably couldn't fathom these feelings, but I also had a brother and sister missing still. My little sister, Alice, I feared the worst for. Last week, reports of a “Comfort Battalion” of forced-prostitutes was recovered in the forests in the east. They recovered little girls as young as 10 in these battalions, and I cringed. My little sister was 10 last time I saw her.

Besides her is my brother Panu. Panu is younger then me at age 14. Seeing as the Republican forces used child soldiers before in the past against us, I wouldn't rule out that he was serving as a child soldier. I hoped greatly that he wasn't a child soldier, but I knew that more then likely he was. Those feelings of deep sadness and fear frequented my stomach when I thought of it. I enlisted to support the Monarchy, to save my siblings, and to save those who needed to be saved from the Iron Eagle grip of the Fascists...er..Republican Forces. Back to the present.

I watched James take a step forward, boldly and strongly stepping closer to me. I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine. I could feel a connection actually, some sort of connection that bonded two people together forever. I spoke softly. “No..no not yet James.” His demeanor changed instantaneously, going from joyous to understanding. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, I can wait.” I then breathed a deep sigh of relief as I sat on the bed and took off the annoying dress jacket and laid down, trying to take a nap. I was tired again, not to mention in pain. This pain that coursed through my head was from the smash across the face from a nickel-plated officer's handgun.

Soon I was out like a lamp. I fell into a deep sleep where I had no nightmares to begin with, waking up at some time later. When I awoke, I didn't open my eyes. I felt something over me; an arm that was holding me around the stomach as I slept. Then I looked over and saw James holding me as I slept. I wanted to scream, but then I realized that his comforting kept me from having horrid visions within my sleep. I smiled softly and moved out of his grasp, reaching for my normal uniform. I didn't think of anything while changing in front of him. I knew he was sleeping so it didn't matter. Back in standard uniform, I made my way towards the HQ to meet the squad.

This would be an interesting sight.
Chapter III: Squad Ops. I finally walked into the HQ and past the beams of stained glass. The new positions of the rays from the adjusted sunlight made for a different spectacle of light. The stained glass on the right side (West Side) of the church shined into the opposite windows on the left side. The vertical lines of the stained glass crossed my face in a shimmering bedazzlement of light that made my face seem like it was colored by the Gods themselves. I couldn't help but make a smile as I picked up the small clipboard that had the squad roster on it. I then walked into the room, the squad and the FM standing before me.

“This is your squad, 1st squad, this is your new Commander. Her name is Elysse Eliot. She is a new Staff Sergeant. She's earned the Cross of Valor. She has earned my respect and I'm awarding her based on that.” I smiled. Some were new, some were older. I looked over the roster and began to examine the names. Sergeant Henry Bordeaux, 34, A, Former squad commander. The A I just stated was his marksman rating, so he was very good. I examined his person from afar. He had short red hair, shimmering green eyes. He wasn't particularly tall, but he had some height on him. He carried an S-5 Sub machine gun. He shown the face of war. He did serve in the military beforehand under the old Monarchy. He looked like he'd be the one to not trust a 19 year old off the bat.

Next on the list was Corporal Katlyn Myran. CORPORAL Katlyn Myran, 20, A-, NCO. I looked at the NCO node a bit curiously. She used to be a Non-Commissioned Officer? Why was she a Corporal now? Her long black hair hung down low and complimented her steel gray eyes. In her arms sat a normal M-10 bolt action rifle, with rifle clips down her chest like a bandolier. She looked to be Southern Kalonian. Beside her stood another Corporal. CORPORAL Francis MacKennth, 23, B, criminal. The criminal part made me almost jump up. I read carefully his record. It wasn't that bad, a petty thief. Petty thievery isn't as bad in my book as something like murder. He was shorter and carried a Machine gun on his side. He was a bit scrawny looking, and not in proper dress detail with brown hair that reached his chest.

Following him, there was the Engineer. SPECIALIST Eina Kajaan, 17, D-, ENGINEER CORPS. She couldn't shoot for anything but was apparently a really good engineer. She was very short, and had a lot of personalization on her uniform. I smiled at her, because she seemed the most human here. She smiled back and me and I nodded, returning to the list. PRIVATE FIRST CLASS Jason Grenjan, 20, A+, RIFLEMAN. Rifleman. Some generic rifleman with a good marksman rating. He had that quality of knowledge about him. Seeing as he was one of the last ones, he must have been thrown in at the last moment.

Then, the sniper. PRIVATE Sarah Feux, 15, O+, SNIPER. O plus meant outstanding plus. She had the highest marksmanship ability that was rated in this army. I looked up at her, her body immediately catching my eye. She wasn't busty, no one in this squad was. She wore a brimmed chupalla hat and a poncho akin to those of the Western Plains herders. She smiled, clip bandolier over her poncho and giving way to a pair of riding pants. It was clear that she was the most out-of-uniform member of the squad, not that I particularly cared as much. Her rifle on hand was a Modified M-10 Bolt Action, with a nice looking customized scope. This would be the best part.

Then we arrived at the last person of the squad. Our medic...someone I felt for. I was a medic as well, so I knew the pain of it. MEDIC Gregory Edas, 19, C+, FIELD MEDIC RATING B+. I looked at him, and he looked back at me. He was decked out in the full military uniform and the equipment dedicated to a Medic. He looked very nerved...or unnerved. His curly blonde hair and strange deep green eyes stared into the soul. He looked to be a devout Alunist. I smiled.

“Good Evening”

It was the only words I could think of to say at the moment, as I looked over what would be the men and women I am charged to protect and lead on through a war. Regardless of who they were or who they were to be, I had to lead them. I had never lead anything before besides the local school drama club for a brief time while the leader was out of the country on holiday. Now that I’ve officially graduated from leading a group of hormonally compromised teenagers to hormonally war-stricken young adults put all the more pressure on me. I motioned for them to move, and then I noticed the big warning sign; Henry hesitated to move until the Field Marshal nodded. The sigh I admitted following seeing this was quiet and reserved as they began to walk down through the stained glass, being bathed in its light.

I wasn’t one for drama in my life unless it was a club. Home life was hard enough during the war and then our parents vanished, then my little sister, and last Panu. I was the only one left in the home, so I escaped the city with what little life I had left and make a break for the nearest rebel camp. I signed up to the Medic Corps as I had the training as a basic EMT for the city, and thus was immediately thrown a medic bag and a cross was slapped on my arm. It felt and seemed all so sudden, but then it felt fearful and worrying. My ‘Baptism by Fire’ was at the Battle of Ninsk. I was a Ninskian since I was born and lived most of my life in the Southern District of Ninsk. Most of the fighting took place in the Southern District of the City. We could see the Royal Palace off in the distance as we fought; the very symbol of our revolution so close yet so far away. I even fought in my old house during the battle, and then watched as it turned from a field hospital into a shelled pile of rubble, and no one cared greatly over it. Soldiers asked me why I was crying beside it. Once I told them it was my home, they shrugged and walked away, saying “the revolution will make everything better. We all have to lose something to gain victory for the Queen.” I believed them more than I do now, only wishing Panu and Alice would come back.

On our way back, I looked to see one of the squad soldiers utter something, to which Sarah took great offense and looked the other soldier down. Quickly, it seemed to escalate more than I wanted to. I noticed the offender was Jasan, one of the Corporals and the criminal. He uttered the word mekunz. Mekunz was the offensive word for the Mekunan people of the south. Sarah was one of them it showed, as her long black hair and herder’s clothing accented her deep green eyes. She had her hands holding the collar of his shirt, and he was readying a punch. I pushed over there and put my hand in between them. I tried to muster authority up. “Knock it off!” I shouted.

Jason came back. “I’m not serving in the same squad as mekunz swine.” His words echoed. Sarah responded. “What makes us swine!? We’re just people all the same! We heard cattle, do you have a problem with that!?” She got ready to punch him again, and I took action. I grabbed him by the collar and threw him down with as much force as I could. I stood there, panting in anger, until I heard a strange laughing sound. Turning around, I saw Henry Bordeaux laughing at me, or someone...I didn’t really know. I asked. “Have something to say?”

“You’re really green. This is ridiculous.”

That perked my mind. “What do you mean?”

“You just threw a kid down for an opinion. What are you, hot headed?”My head turned his direction with a rapid turn and I stared him down. He knew I was mad at him now as Jason stood and took his place in line. I spoke. “We don’t need divisions in our squad. We are one group, united against the Republican-Fascists. We need no racial fighting.” I said looking at him. He scoffed and began walking. “Rookie.” is all he said in response. I shook my head and arrived with squad back at the barracks, as they unpacked and picked bunks. I went over and layed in my bed. James soon was upon me, laying beside me and pressing a file to my chest.

“Our deployment orders. You’re going out to walk across the mountain passes to the next city to join the defences at the Medieval City of Kanzreach. From there, we will be involved with the 1st Division in taking back the province, so that we can force the Republicans back into Ninsk and keep them there. If not, we’re to cut south and cut them off from movement with the 1st Division and the 5th Tank Battalion. You will take Kazaen Pass to get to Kanzreach.” Said James. This was very overwhelming.

“May I have a copy of that?” I asked, his response handing me my copy. I read it over a second time, nodding at the deployment time. “So, boarding trucks at 0550 hours and then riding to the edge of guaranteed territory, then legging it the rest of the way. Understood Sir.” He smiled at the remark. “Get some rest.” he said as he stood up.

“...and don’t call me sir.” he said with a tone of non-seriousness.

---

By 0550, we were riding out of the safety and comfort of the base to the great and wild unknown. We all were seated in the back of a UAN-143 two-and-a-half ton truck that was able to handle the fresh snow and cold air. It had snowed last night pretty hard, in fact, it was hard to get out of the compound without a little push help from a jeep. Soon, we were out and about in the world, dismounting the truck and beginning our frigid walk through the scenic mountains. The squad was mostly quiet. The silence welcomed me to my thoughts as we turned onto another small road and kept walking. Looking ahead, something caught my eye. A smoking truck?

“On..double-step to that truck” I said. The squad began to move at double-time and towards the truck, more alert. When we were about 5 meters away from the rear bumper, I motioned for them to not move and stay put. I began to slowly walk up to the truck, suddenly hearing the sound of a groan. My step moved as I got to the broken out window. The scene inside the truck was not pretty by any standard. Four bodies occupied the truck, three of them dead. The farthest away, behind the passenger, was impaled on a seat support, sticking up through their chest. They had a look of pained death. Beside them, closest to me behind the driver, was a boy whose head was shot through. It seemed as they were run off the road. Beside the driver was a girl who was face down in the airbag, blood all over the place from her nose breaking up into her brain on impact. She died quickest it seemed.

The driver, however, was shaking and laid back in her seat. I took a look into the truck and saw that she had a gash on her side and that her arm was shot twice by those who ran them off the road. Her airbag had stains of blood on it, from her nose. The impact apparently didn’t kill her. I examined closer to notice that she also had a burn on her leg. I put my hand on the door handle, then a rush of chrome went from behind my head past my eyes and at her head.

Adrenaline kicked in, my hand flying up and pushing the gun to the side as it fired, shooting past her head into the headrest. I shouted out in angered fear. “WHAT THE FUCK!?” I said, turning around. There before me is Henry Bordeaux, standing with a chrome plated .45 caliber ivory handle pistol. His look was of disgust at me. He looked at me as Jason walked up and looked in. “That’s an enemy. That’s a Republican-Fascist soldier! We kill those. Don’t you remember Ma’am?” He said, distain thick in his voice.

Francis nodded. “Aye, she’s dead anyway, or soon to be. I say we kill’er, loot’er, and get going.”

Sarah walked up with her head shaking. “She’s just a driver, not an enemy combatant. We can’t just kill her. It’s against our protocol and against just basic correctness.” She said, Henry laughing a bit. “Morality? In a war? Are you stupid? Of course you are, you’re as stupid mekunz.” He said “If this was my squad, you’d be out of here.” Interjecting now was Eina, who never talked much until now. “We can’t just kill her. Hey, we could help her. We could even change her to our side. Why would we just kill her?” She said. Katlyn nodded in agreeance. Gregory ran up and went to pull open the door, as Henry pulled him back and onto his ass.

“No, you will wait.” he said with a darkened demeanor. I challenged. “I am your commanding officer and you damn-well better listen to my fucking words or you can walk back to the base on your own!” I opened the door, the squad now in complete silence while I cut the seatbelt away, pulling her out of the truck to her sounds of pained groaning. “For God’s sake! Lay a blanket down!” I shouted at Gregory, who soon put a blanket down on the snow, and I layed her down. Gregory and I began to look over her wounds, which were to say...extensive. She had two bullets in her arm like I said before, but I discovered the gash in her side broke two ribs and nearly cut into her lung. Luckily, it did not. She looked up at me, and I felt a burning feeling inside me.

The day at Delta Post. The day where the boy died. I felt my arms tingle deeply, and panic almost ensued. Gregory pulled my face up. “Ma’am...Ma’am. You’re very pale. You should sit down.” I couldn’t hear him, until someone smacked me. “WAKE UP!” Shouted Jason. I had missed it, gunfire became a new priority. Enemy soldiers had appeared. Training kicked in once again as I pulled the blanket around the truck and kept working, Gregory taking over for me as we shot from behind the truck. Bullets reflected off of the trick sides and past us. Henry turned around the corner and fired his SMG, quickly pulling back around. “Many of them. About a squad. Group, take de-” I stopped him. “Don't give commands. Squad, take defensive positions behind the truck and at the snowbank.”

He didn’t take kindly to it.

Soon though, they had dispersed like cowards. They saw the machine gun being carried by Jason and then the horrible hail of lead it laid down at them. Sarah hadn’t done too shabby either, killing off 3 of the soldiers who had come to kill us. Gregory had managed to stabilize the girl that was wounded and that now was a companion to us. He pushed her onto me to carry. “Your problem.” He said simply. So, I became the carrier or the savior.

Soon, we came upon a small cave, and took refuge for the night…
Chapter IV: Kanzreach

[Prussia]

[class=diplomat]Prussia[/class] claps

Impressive!