Dawn breaks after a serene night. The sun rises steadily to bring light unto this forsaken battlefield. Its warmth disperses the night's cold presence and lifts the fog away, as it caresses the skin with the barely felt but life-bringing heat. This is the type of heat that would set ablaze the freezing hearts on the Northern Frontier, warm up the souls in The 4th Continuation, and keep the spirits of our comrades in the Tropical Campaign alight. All of us seek the hospitality of the morning sun. Unfortunately, only some of us receive its grace of warmth, with even fewer as the days pass.
Yesterday's dance performed by projectiles and serenaded by popping gunpowder now falls silent. The occasional artillery piece could be heard who knows where. Still, the blast of the shell leaving the breech is barely audible, so is its impact zones. Gun fires have also been undermined to mere thumps replicable by fingers tapping against a table. The sky lurks quietly, absent of droning engines and falling rounds. Silence, not an eerie silence, but an uplifting one.
While silence is played by the cloudless skies and worn out ground, the trenches are anything but that. It is very lively, although not as lively as before the offensive, but the lack of tension is reinvigorating. The safe vibrancy of the noises produced by shoulder-to-shoulder allies that would otherwise be stress-inducing when knowing the other side of No Man's Land are people who are ready to put a bullet through you. This isn't the case. Even though we are less aware of what is to come in this asymmetrical situation, it is a refreshing chance of pace.
Rustling backpacks, the light crackles of lit smokes, the clinking of rifles being serviced, and others, these set a slow atmosphere in the infamous 4th-con. People nonchalantly pursue activities that would otherwise be hampered by the risk of having a two-way hole punctured through your helmet. Chatting, reading, writing, and everything else of the similar. Whichever trifling activities that they wish to indulge themselves in unanimously create an aura of tranquillity.
----
In fact, it's so lax, some are still snoring their concerns away. I'll have to kick them up in a few minutes, lest the lieutenant strangles them himself. Other than those few, the majority of 2nd Platoon are already up and about, at least I'm partially exempted from having to discipline an entire platoon. I stroll around the 2nd's cluster and talk to the people that comprise the 2nd. I'm surprised to hear only a quarter of the platoon are consolidated troops, the rest are pure 2nd. That is quite the feat, to have a majority of the platoon still alive. Though that discounts the possibility of other 2nd members that may have lost their way during the offensive.
After a lot of idle chatter, it's time for an official wake-up call. I return to the sleeping bunch and start harassing them. Most of them received the message with a light push of a rifle's buttstock to the face while the heavier sleepers unwillingly demanded a shouting. Nothing notable occurred and now everyone is awake. Perfect. Usually I have to follow it up with a roll call but gathering around 45 people in a place in the trenches isn't realistic. Therewith, I just head over to the lieutenant's quarters for a run-down of today.
As I make my way, someone taps me on the shoulder from behind. I stop and turn around to see a lackadaisical face. She dresses herself rather sloppily. Her ammo pouch is levelled unevenly where the left-hand pouch droops as low as her torso and her bayonet's scabbard is oddly pointing forwards. Most of her pockets aren't buttoned and her uniform is larger than she is. She also managed to make a rifle holder for her backpack with a rifle sling, which actually looks convenient, although with little to no utility in case an unexpected attack happens.
"Sergeant Adiline, right?" She inquires. Her speech pattern is frustratingly slow and the tone of her voice is all over the place. She was accentuating random syllables and prolonging some others in her sentences. Since I'm in no rush, I turn a blind eye to her speech mannerism. "Yes. Do you need anything from me?" I return the question.
"Ah... That's cool..." She sluggishly remarks.
"Alright? If that's it, then I'm off to the lieutenant."
As I'm about to leave, she grabs me by the hand.
"The lieutenant...? That's also cool..."
"Look, do you need anything from me? Do you have something you want to tell me? Why do you stop me again?"
"Ah... right! I wanted to ask." She finally recalls, "When will we have our morning briefing?"
"The moment you let go of my hand and let me go to the lieutenant, that's when."
"Oh... I'm sorry..."
I can hear the melancholy in her apology and I feel somewhat bad for it, even though I can justify my agitated response. She let go of my hand and slowly walks away.
"Hey," I try calling her "come here. Follow me." So she did, excitedly.
----
Now, someone is accompanying me to Lieutenant Meyers. I look over my shoulder towards her and and take a glance at her smile. It was a soft-stricken smile. It reeks of innocence and ignorance. I even reassure myself that this is indeed 4th-con, worse still, we are not in familiar trenches.
"You haven't introduced yourself." I remind her, only after I realised I don't know who she is.
"Oh right..." Again with her very vocal speeches, "I'm Corporal Kilbourn Sammy Firefly, same company as the sergeant, but I'm from the 3rd Platoon..."
"Eh? 3rd Platoon? Are there other 3rd members consolidated to the 2nd, or 1st?"
"I'm not too sure... I'm pretty sure I was with the 3rd up until the middle... Then when I reached the trench lines, I just moved with the group that was already in at the time, the 2nd..."
"I-I... I see. Anyhow, corporal you said? Where were you garrisoned before 4th-con?"
"I was garrisoned in the Southern Salient, sergeant... Most of the time in a reserve brigade for the 4th Division..."
"The 4th!?" I exclaim, shocked, "You were attached to the 4th? The Resilient 4's?"
"Yep... I was promoted from First Class to Corporal there... When the reserve brigade was called into a desperate defence..."
"Oh really? You must've done something admirable to be opted for promotion."
"Hmm... I don't know really..."
"I probably know. Take it from me, Sammy."
"Alright!" She says rather cheery.
We reach the lieutenant's quarters. I order Sammy to fix herself up prim and proper before heading in. I understand this is the front line and all but I don't want to be lectured for tardiness, especially if it's related to a platoon member. Her clothes are too baggy to straighten out, so we fix whatever we can and enter. Of course, greeting the quarter guards.
Upon entering, Lieutenant Meyers is already discussing away with someone who I assume is a sergeant. Sammy and I stand to attention and salute, they both return the salute. Then I clarify Sammy's presence and circumstance to which Lieutenant Meyers pays no mind with her being here. Lieutenant Meyers rapidly introduced Sergeant Harvey Williams Churchill, from and leading the 1st Platoon. We tip our helmets at each other and immediately went into the details.
The lieutenant points at the map, indicating that we are currently around there and he wants a pair of runners to report back to the main trenches, as well as request in a company of sappers to create a makeshift front-line trenches facing the rear of these trenches. He also orders a platoon to continue fighting parallel in the trenches in the hopes of establishing communication with other stranded companies. Finally, the other platoon is to continue securing the perimeter, making sure to eradicate any pockets of resistance.
Sergeant Harvey volunteers the first platoon to be assigned the perimeter guards again. I'm thinking about sending two as runners and I'll command the rest of the 2nd to fight here. I propose the idea to Lieutenant Meyers and he concurs with the plan. After that, he dismisses Sergeant Harvey and Private Sammy, leaving me in the quarters. He explains that dissimilar to the army, he has his own combat procedures. preferring to have prisoners for extra intel. Fair enough.
The lieutenant dismisses me, but before that he adds that once I've briefed the platoon, I'm to report back confirm that the operations can start. What a centralised, yet decentralised command structure. I walk back to the 2nd's cluster and detail them on it. In the end, Privates Hawker and Spitfire will be our runners and Corporal Firefly will be the platoon's second-in-command. Once the platoon collectively agrees on these decisions, I return to Lieutenant Meyers to commence the 2nd's activities.