Standard disclamer: I don't own Hellsing, nor any of the characters from it.
It had all gone terribly wrong. Instead of it being a simple little mission to eliminate a few hostiles, the Wild Geese had run into a stronghold. One thousand men to their one hundred—that including the medics. It was chaos.
"Captain!" came the yell. "They're comin' out!"
"Merde," Captain Pip Bernadette swore. "I can't believe this!" Their employer's intelligence was supposed to be rock solid, seeing as their employer was the controlling government of Uganda. The entire intelligence community was devoted to the Wild Geese and other mercenary companies hired to put down the rebelling military, so why were they handed with this load of bad news? "Fall back 50 meters! Plan Charlie!"
The Wild Geese fell back to prepared foxholes, and readied themselves for close combat. But something went wrong.
"Incoming!" came the yell from the left flank. Mortars started falling with increasing accuracy, creating craters in the earth that were leading straight for the embattled mercenary company. Pip could dimly see the soldiers leaving the front gate of the base, using the bomb craters to shelter themselves from the return fire the Wild Geese were laying down.
Pip turned to his radioman. "Contact the other companies. See what is happening to them, and if there is any backup available."
Ignoring the sharp "yes, sir!" from his subordinate, the Captain ran to where the medics were preparing IVs and bandages for the inevitable casualties. "How is it?"
"Nothing major yet," the lead medic reported, "but those mortars are going to cause a fair bit of damage. Can the others do anything?"
Pip grinned. "So far we're the only ones. Good job." He turned and ran back to his command post. "Well?"
"We're on our own for about another hour. The Pigs are in the same position as we are; Hellish Angels and the Mad Dogs are on their way with planes to all positions. But it's going to take time. Sir, I've a letter written. Give it to my family?"
Pip shook his head. "Not today, Ian. You're going to walk out of this one with a decent check."
The only thing that Pip heard was the rising whistle of a shell falling from the sky. He yelled as hot metal pierced his eye, and then he was down, hands clapped over his injured face. "Mon Dieu! Medic!" he screamed out, tears of pain streaming out his remaining eye. He felt the sharp prick of a needle, and managed to gasp out retreat orders before blackness overtook him. This was one battle that could not be won by his men.
xXx
Pip awoke to find himself in the back of a truck. Truck? Why am I in a truck? He thought sluggishly. Struggling to sit up, he croaked, "Report? Just what is going on here?"
"Captain, it's Doc. We're not allowed into any hospitals just yet—apparently there is some sort of truce going on now. No, don't do that!" the medic scolded as Pip reached up to remove the confining bandages. "One eye, sir, well," Doc hesitated. "It got hit directly by shrapnel." He gulped. "It's completely gone, sir. Your other eye is bandaged to keep anything from moving, and we're going to keep it that way for a few more days. Just to heal up."
Pip felt a water bottle being pressed into his hand, and he took a long drink as the truck rattled to a stop. "Casualties?"
"Minimal, sir. About 10 men were wounded, and there were three KIAs. Ian, Big John, and Wildcat, sir. I dare say that we were lucky; not even several bombing runs by Hellish Angels broke down the other side."
Pip reached to his side, feeling for the side of the truck. Reaching it, he swung around on his pallet so that he was sitting up against it. Wrapping his braid around his neck, he asked "And what about the Pigs and the Mad Dogs?"
"The Pigs are essentially gone, sir. They tried to retreat, but were chased and gunned down or captured and killed."
"Th' bastards slaughtered 'em, Bernadette. An' they 'ad anti-aircraft guns t' boot." The heavy accent of the Mad Dogs' commander came from Pip's side. "Got three o' me planes and a chunk of me men, too." He swore. "We're gonna be out o' it all fer a while; we've less than 60 pr'cent left, and most of t'ems injured." The thick accent distracted Pip from the dull throbbing in his left eye.
"Where are you from, Bert? Doc, find out when we can get out of this truck."
"'ere and there, lad. 'ere and there," was heard over the solid thud of combat boots hitting pavement. A heavy hand patted Pip's shoulder. "An' here's a messenger for ye, I'm guessing. I gotta get back to me men. Luck be wit you, Bernadette!"
"Captain Barnes?" the piping voice came from the rear of the truck. "Message for you from your second."
"Give it 'ere, lad." Bart's voice faded as he walked away.
Pip heard Doc climb into the truck. "Are you comfortable? Is there anything that I can do for you?
"No," Pip reached up to his face and felt at his bandages. "What you can do is get these bandages off my face."
His hand was slapped away. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that until the day after tomorrow at the earliest. Here. It's time for your medication."
Pip felt the sharp needle prick in his arm and fell asleep, silently cursing all doctors.
xXx
The next few days were all one long blur for the Captain. Doc had kept him drugged, knowing that if the Captain was allowed to stay awake for long, he'd've not only removed his bandages, but gone out among his men—good for morale, bad for health. The amount of alcohol that was consumed on their downtime...Doc shook his head and continued to check on his patients.
So...thank you all for taking time to read this. I did change the history of Uganda around a bit; in 1985 there was a rebellion and guerillas attempted to overthrow the current government, and in January 1986 the rebellion ended with a new leader(MSN Encarta online)...however, the Wild Geese are shown to be in Uganda in 1992 (according to the Dark Horse translation of Hellsing volume 3) and I just, well, completely screwed it over. Yeah.
