As expected, I'm unable to sleep. There are a lot of things in my mind that I cannot put to rest, such as the possibility of losing the intelligence war, or the most evident one, the probable assault. What's frustrating is that we would've been unprepared hadn't the lieutenant ordered runners to report our situation. Are we being expended here? Are we going to fall to the inevitability of The 4th Continuation? I explore these questions hopelessly, unable to shake off the twisting feeling in my stomach.
Restlessness overpowers my exhausted body, coaxing me to get up from the comfortable mattress. I take a leisurely stroll around the sleepy trenches. Everyone looks as if they're in a peaceful slumber, or rather the kind of peace one might expect in war. I wrestle a dilemma concerning the awareness of the platoon towards the imminent attack. What benefit is there to gain from informing them of this? They would only be as awake as me, hampering their potential fighting ability. And in this decision I've chosen? They can only swallow in the sudden news I'll break early in the morning. Guilt runs through me yet I still hope they understand the difficulty of any of those decisions.
I eventually wander to the defensive positions erected by the 1st. They've actually made solid positions to hold. The sandbags are stacked in such a way that there are peepholes a rifle could be aimed through without the risk of being fired in return. The slopes leading to the trenches are covered by sandbagged rifle positions, laid out in the same pattern as the previous ones. These are found on all four slopes, enabling us to cover the entire range of the entrance. Layering the foreside of them are salvaged barbed wires. They were arranged to evenly cover the sandbags, possibly to prevent their soldiers from tearing it down easily.
Popping my head out the trenches quickly, I see that the 1st have also placed stakes just outside the parapet. I concentrate on the stakes and see bits of barbed wires knotted around it. Now I know where they produced that from. A short distance in the back, they've also readied the machine gun to overlook two entrance ways. Without ammunition, however, it'll only serve as a psychological weapon, which is discouraging them from attempting to approach said entrances. Effective in concept but it won't take long before they figure out it isn't firing.
Working to our advantage, the new No Man's Land had no shell holes or any sort of terrain features that the offensive army could possibly use for cover. Was this intentional? I mean, a front battalion usually doesn't carry support companies so maybe they're relying on it. Is that also why HQ is sending us the 7th Automatic? I'm foreseeing too much into this with no concrete indication of whether any of my assumptions are true or false. I'll just return and and try sleeping again; I've inspected everything of interest here anyways.
I drag myself back after the anxiousness subsides and I'm fully ready to collapse the moment I find my mattress. Carefully stepping over sleeping soldiers is arduous, especially when I'm carrying a dead-weight body powered by an absent-minded head. After an excruciating eternity, I fall flat on the mattress and pass the night away.
----
The feeling of cold water droplets hit and run down my face. I wipe it off and slowly crack my eyes open. At first, there was a dark spot directly in front of me stemming to my peripheral view. After a while, it's just Sammy peering over me. She waves her hand in front of my face and greets, "Hoy... Morning... Or rather good dawn..." She stands straight, still looking down on me blinking rapidly as I try to sit up. Sammy pushes my back straight up and asks, "When do you plan on telling the rest...?"
"I want to tell them now but..." I respond tiredly, "I don't know really."
"What's stopping you...?"
"Remorse?"
"Remorse for what...? You haven't even told them..."
"That's exactly why I'm feeling it. Should I have told them yesterday?"
"If you're asking me for a second chance... I don't think I can turn time back..."
"I'm not referring to that."
"I know, I know... But what do you hope to get from my input...?"
"What would you have done if you were me in my position?"
"Hmm... I would've probably done what you're doing... In the morning so that they could rest the night, right...?"
"That's the same conclusion I reached last night as well." I conjure up the willpower for today and stand, "Thanks, Sammy. Gather the platoon."
"Roger..."
----
Sammy's methods to getting people up are a bit... questionable, and most of them involve kicking but I have to let it go for now. Everyone has gathered, time to begin the first phase of today.
"Alright, so I have two things to tell you in this briefing. That is, if neither Hawker nor Spitfire has told any of you already." I glance at them, expecting an answer.
"No, sergeant!"
"Alright. So firstly, we are expecting reinforcements and a resupply from the rear in a couple more hours."
The crowd breaks into a cheer and talks amongst themselves.
"Settle down, settle down. We're not done yet. This next piece of news might explain why we're getting those in the first place."
"Because the rear are finally moving up?" Somebody assumes.
"Not quite, the opposite real-"
"We're going back to the previous line?"
"Pipe it down, will you all? Listen up first. As I was saying, it's quite the opposite. The previous 'tenants' of this place insists that we return it to them. Some time after noon, they will come, and they will come in numbers larger than we are now."
Someone asks, "How many are we expecting?"
"About a battalion."
The platoon voices their diverse yet similar complaints. On one hand, I can't wrong them for beseeching intelligence related to offensives be told days before it occurs. The other, the battlefield is too dynamic to predict so whether they want to or not, we're expected to see it through.
I proceed to tell them that there will be a few short hours between the resupply and the attack, then advising them to utilise it optimally. In addition to that, I also order them to clean out their rifles and clear the trenches of obstruction to establish a clean flow moving back and forth from the front, wherefore it may be needed later. Finally, I suggest for them to get toured of our defensive lines by the 1st, so that when Lieutenant Meyers decides on battle positions, the 2nd can flexibly adjust to it. They get dismissed and immediately scatter.
Often, senses of rush and "excitement" only happen once you've heard the first bullet strike near you, or hear artillery far off somewhere only to hear a cannon shell whistle overhead. This time, it prematurely settles in to provide a pulsating feeling in the wrist and the subtle lightheadedness. It also gives the illusion of a propitious outcome, which is strengthened by fighting on the defence. No matter if it's only hallucinatory or ignorant confidence, as long as it serves as the energy to fire over-and-over, it will be abused. For now, we actively await their arrival, friends and foe for a feel of the 4th-con.