Welkin shifted uncomfortably in his new uniform. The brand new boots felt stiff and were in severe want of breaking in. He learned against the door in his office, staring at what had become his desk. His office, his desk, his uniform, he still couldn't get used to that. Hadn't he been a student only a couple of days ago? What was he doing here? He didn't know how to command a squad. He'd never even led a baseball team before, never mind a platoon of soldiers. What could he offer? His success at Bruhl had been as much about luck as it had been about skill or grit. If it hadn't been for the Edelweiss, he couldn't stand to think about what might have happened. Thank God Isara knew how to drive the thing. Otherwise, they would probably still be in Bruhl, in an Imperial labour camp, or worse. He let out a sigh and made his way over to the desk. He still couldn't bring himself to sit in that chair. As if part of him wouldn't accept the sacrifice – albeit, he hoped, a temporary one – of his dreams of teaching; and couldn't face the transformation from student to soldier. Equally present were the natural fears of combat, death and the horror of being responsible for the deaths of others.
If he was honest with himself that was what scared him the most: the possibility that his orders would send someone to their death. A martyr's grave and posthumously awarded medal were cold comfort at best. Could he deal with that? Could he give an order that meant the end of one of his men? Could he remain resolute, looking down into the lifeless accusing eyes of those he failed? He groaned in frustration. He had to get out of here, the walls were closing in on him. If he stayed in this room, only him and his uncertainty, he didn't know what would happen.
A knock at the door jarred him back into the real world.
"Welkin?"
Alicia!
"Welkin, can I come in?"
Welkin shook himself, bringing his mind fully back to the present. "Uh, sure. Come in."
The door opened, and Alicia walked in. She looked smart in her uniform, which contrasted well with the scarf she wore wrapped around her head wherever she went. The uniform made her look taller, tougher, if that were possible. At least it had when she had first shown it to him. Now, away from the sight of the brass, and the other recruits who both of them had yet to meet, her shoulders were slumped in uncertainty, and her eyes showed a fatigue that had never been allowed to see the light of day since the two had had their fateful meeting in Bruhl. Even though they had only known each other for a short period, Welkin was genuinely surprised to see Alicia so unlike herself. It frightened him.
"Alicia?"
"Have you met them yet?" She asked, "The rest of the squad, I mean."
Welkin shook his head, "No, it's been so busy today, with the briefing sessions and the base tour and everything. So, I was going to do it tomorrow. Why?" He asked, genuinely curious as to the reason behind the question.
"Sgt. Melchiott." She spoke. She paused, and then whispered it again, almost as if she were trying it on for size. Suddenly, she flinched – so slightly that Welkin wasn't even sure that it had happened; and, like one coming out of a trance, she looked at Welkin, with a self conscious smile.
"It's a lot to take in." She said.
Welkin nodded.
"I just keep thinking of everything that could go wrong." She told him quietly, "I lost so many good friends in Bruhl. So many good friends dead, and I couldn't stop it."
"Alicia…" Welkin began, knowing that this was quite an admission for her. In a way he felt flattered that she trusted him enough to let him see her this unsure. She turned her face up to meet his gaze, looking so lost that his heart ached for her. Silently, he begged the words to come to him, as she stared into his eyes.
"What would you have done, if the Edelweiss hadn't been there?" He asked. Her expression became confused.
"If the tank support hadn't been available, what would you have done: retreated, or stayed to defend the gate?"
She answered without hesitation, which Welkin felt gratified to see, "I would have stayed as long as possible."
Welkin nodded, "And rest of the Guard?"
Again, she nodded without hesitation, "They would have stayed as well. We all knew our duty."
"And you did it." Without even thinking about, Welkin walked over to his desk and leaned against it. "Alicia, hundreds of people are free of the Empire's tyranny because of the sacrifice that you and the rest of Bruhl's guard made, when you dug in to defend the main gate. You all knew the risks when the Empire started rolling tanks in the plaza; but you did anyway, because it was the right thing to do."
Alicia's slumped posture was slowly disappearing, as she heard the wisdom in his words.
Welkin smiled, "Personally, I can't think of anyone better to command with me in battle. You've got sharp eyes, you know how to handle yourself, you don't lose your cool under fire. We've both seen proof of that. More than that, you inspire the best in people and you can think on the run. You'll be a great commander."
Alicia grinned, "Thanks, Welkin. Maybe you're right. I guess it doesn't do any good to worry about it. We've all got to face what comes head-on."
Welkin nodded, "Exactly." He glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw how late it was. "I think we could both use some sleep. We don't have a lot of time to prepare before we move out for Vasel."
Alicia nodded her agreement and moved for the door. As her hand gripped the knob, she stopped.
"Welkin?"
"Yes?"
She gave him a smile that filled the room. "Thanks again; and for what it's worth, I think you'll do a great job too."
Welkin smiled. They said their good nights and she left. He turned and looked at his desk. Suddenly, less intimidating. He chuckled to himself. Well, how do you like that? She had gotten him to solve his own problem without ever realizing it.
"Thanks Alicia." He whispered, going to bed himself; and slept soundly for the first time since Bruhl had been lost.
***
'More and more kids,' Rosie thought, making her way along the base perimeter. If this kept up, soon every child in Gallia would lose their innocence in defense of their country. As she was leaving the barracks that morning, she had seen a new batch of recruits getting off of a truck. One of them was a little girl with glasses who couldn't have been more than 14. What was this world coming to? A kid that age should be too busy mooning after boys and going to school to play war. Well, she would grow up soon. Either when the Imps breached the Capital walls or when the militia was sent out to meet them – which ever came first. In the distance, plumes of evil black smoke could be seen to the North – harbingers of the Empire's arrival in Vasel. This war could be over before it even began. If they managed to establish a full garrison at Vasel, then not even the entire Gallian army could keep them from Randgriz.
She arrived at the main hanger, where the rest of the squad had mustered. She took her place next to Largo, as a squad leader. Everyone looked restless, Rosie noted. Since the retreat from the border, and the militia's being folded in with Gallia's Main Army, Squad 7 had been training without pause for the last week; but all that was about to change. Nervous energy crackled in the air as every member of the squad young and old grappled with the realization that the eve of battle was upon them. The squad stood at attention before a massive tank. It bore Gallian colours, but it was unlike any tank either Largo or Rosie had ever seen before. It certainly held no resemblance to the light weight tanks which were the Gallian standard. Since Gallia was a neutral country, it was assumed that their role in the war would be defensive. Thus all Gallian armour was made to be light weight, able to move in quickly, strike and retreat at a moments notice. Such tactics had served Gallia well during the First Europan War, when armour technology was universally new; but it was quickly becoming apparent that now, twenty years later, the Empire's technicians had surpassed Gallia in their development.
Largo perused the tank in apparent admiration. Someone put a lot of time, effort and ingenuity into this. A solid piece of work, he concluded. It ought to be able to take several hits by an anti-tank lance before being disabled; and the weapons were obviously top of the line, complete with all the latest anti-tank and anti-personnel accoutrements. With its enormous cannon and its thick defensive frame, it obviously wasn't as light weight as your standard Gallian tank; but it would pack one hell of punch. Add a good on the spot repair crew into the mix and your had a formidable offensive weapon. Largo turned his head slightly to the left to see Salinas Milton practically drooling at the sight of this beast. Largo snorted. Salinas always did seem to have thing for tanks. Several times on R&R, he had waxed poetic about how much he dreamed about driving one of those things.
Speaking of drivers, he turned to Rosie, "You met the new lieutenant yet?"
Rosie shook her head, "Nope. Hope he lasts longer than the last one." She replied, dryly.
Largo could do nothing but nod in agreement. "They say that this guy was at Bruhl when the Imps crossed the border. A few draftees from the town guard told me that he rode in on that thing and stopped the Imps from blasting down the town gate."
Rosie spared a small smile, "If he's as good as all that, maybe things won't be so tough after all. You hear about where we're actually going?"
This time Largo shook his head, "Nah. With the Imps so close, could be any of a number of places. I hear the Imps have managed to cut a supply route through Kloden. Funny, considering I remember hearing High Command assure the people that that was impossible."
"High Command is twenty years behind the times. They're still thinking in terms of fighting in open fields and of bayonet charges." Rosie scoffed. "Like that Damon," she referred General Damon of the Grand Army, "If the enemy doesn't get us killed, he will."
Largo gave a fatalistic shrug, "That's the way of it. Militia always get the suicide missions. We're expendable."
"Give me three minutes with Damon," Rosie growled, "I'll show him expendable."
Their conversation was interrupted by the clip of combat boots striking the concrete, making their way around the troop formation and towards the tank. After a moment's glimpse to see that all the squad was accounted for, Rosie and Largo cast their gaze toward the sound, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new arrival. Captain Eleanor Varrot rounded the corner with two more in tow. They came to stop in front of the tank.
"Ahh-ten-shun!" Largo shouted, and the entire squad jumped to, saluting the Captain. Varrot returned it. "At ease," she commanded. "Troops, most of you are no doubt aware that the Empire breached the Vasel Defense, yesterday afternoon. I don't need to tell you what it means if they manage to hold that position. The Empire is setting up a defensive garrison around the Vasel Bridge. If they do that, this war will be over in a heartbeat. We've received our orders from Command. Our Mission: to take back Vasel and secure the bridge."
'Yep,' Largo thought, darkly, 'it is a suicide mission.'
The Vasel drawbridge was famed throughout Europan history as a key strategic point in Gallia. It was one of the main transit arteries in the country, and would be near impossible to take back through a direct assault. The bridge was considered a feat of engineering, so the Imps wouldn't think twice about lobbing artillery shells at any Gallian forces who charged along the expanse. And even if that weren't the case, if they assaulted the garrison directly at the bridge, the enemy could simply raise it. Cutting off reinforcements and dropping those at the charge's forefront into the river, and certain death. Of course, all of this was a moot point. First they actually had to get to Vasel. Which, on its own would be difficult. With the Gallians in full retreat the Imps would have had a chance to prepare for any attack. They would be rested and well armed, the militia wouldn't.
Captain Varrot gestured to the pair of soldiers in militia uniforms, standing just off to the side. "These are your new squad leaders. Step forward," She commanded. "This is Sergeant Melchiott of Bruhl. She will be in command of the scouts, as of today; and this is Lieutenant Gunther, also of Bruhl, your new squad commander."
Whispering rippled through the crowd. "Gunther? Did she say, Gunther?"
"Ahh-ten-shun!" Largo shouted. The whispering stopped.
Varrot continued, "You'll be moving out shortly. Lt. Gunther will explain the situation." She turned and saluted the young man, who saluted back. She marched out.
Largo's eyebrows raised as the new Lieutenant came into view. He couldn't be much older than 20. He still had a boy's eyes, yet to be made dark by the horrors of war. If it weren't for the fact that Elle had said that he had come from Bruhl, Largo would never have believed that this kid had seen any sort of combat at all. This was their new commander? This was the son of the great Belgen Gunther?
"Not more kids," Rosie muttered. The new Sergeant Melchiott looked even younger. Little more than a girl. But Rosie did have to admit that she did have a determined look on her face that looked almost out of place when one took in her petite frame, which came only as high as the new lieutenant's chest. It was almost funny to see the two of them standing together. The son of a war hero, who looked more like a college student than a soldier; and a scout, shorter than most of the squad, but looked like she was prepared to take on the entire empire by herself. Gunther stepped forward, preparing to speak. This was it.
Welkin cast a look at Alicia and shoved his nervousness aside. When Capt. Varrot had led him in front of the men and women who would be under his command, Welkin felt himself begin to shrink. He had survived Bruhl, but that was only a skirmish. Fighting an Imperial scouting team was one thing. Taking on the enemy defenses at Vasel, quite another. Welkin wondered is this is what his father had felt like when he had first assumed a command.
"My name is Lieutenant Welkin Gunther. Time is short, so I'm afraid that more full introductions will have to wait until later. We've only got a few hours before we make our move against the Empire. Like the Captain said, we're set to take back the bridge at Vasel, but first we have to establish a foothold in Vasel once more. The Empire is advancing south through the city, nearing total control. So here's the plan: Squad 7 will split into two groups. The main group will deploy and makecap at the southern end of the city to block the Imperial advance. They will distract the main Imperial Force, luring them out to attack, while a smaller moves from the riverside, circling behind the enemy, cutting them off. Once that force has been dealt with, we seize the town hall, and set up a defensive perimeter. If there are no questions, suit up and be ready to move out. You'll receive assignments from your squad commanders. Squad commanders remain, all others: dismissed."
The group jumped to attention and filed out, unsure of what to make of their new commander. Rosie and Largo remained behind, equally uncertain; assuaged only slightly by the promise of decent strategy. Since the Imps had only just managed to capture Vasel, they were likely slightly overextended; which would explain why they slowed their southward advance. This would be the best opportunity that Gallia would have of creating a bulwark against the Imperial invasion.
The two squad leaders step forward, toward their first one on one conversation with their new commander. Both of them were very unsure of what to make of him. Without a doubt, he was young. Not much older than the kids who had joined up. Nonetheless, if the stories about him and this Alicia that had come out of Bruhl were true, then both of them had more experience than the training every Gallian received from childhood. Both Rosie and Largo snapped to attention and saluted.
As senior non-com present, Largo spoke, "Sgt. Largo Potter and Cpl. Brigitte Stark reporting."
Welkin smiled an easy smile. "Since time appears to be of the essence, I think that we can keep the saluting to a minimum. You can call me Welkin and this is Alicia. I look forward to working with you."
Largo and Rosie exchanged a covert look. This Welkin was very informal for someone who came from military stock.
Rosie turned to their new leader, impatient to get started and unnerved by the greenness that radiated off this new guy in waves. "Okay, fine. He's Largo and everyone calls me Rosie. Let's get to it."
Welkin ignored her bluntness. "On the advice of Captain Varrot, here are the instructions. Rosie: you, Alicia and I will handle the riverside assault. Largo: you'll handle defense at the city centre. I haven't had a chance to meet the rest of the squad personally, so I'll rely on you to pick your team mates."
Largo nodded. Having expected such a request, his mind was already running through those best qualified. "Yes sir. I'll handle it."
Welkin nodded, "Good. Both of you get suited up and meet back here with your men. We move out in one hour." He walked out. Alicia nodded in greeting and followed Welkin.
As the two new arrivals made their departure, Rosie turned to Largo. Were she the nervous type, her hands would clearly be shaking. "He's greener than the grass outside!" She exclaimed.
Largo said nothing, watching the retreating backs of his new fellow squad leaders. Rosie was right. From Bruhl or not – General Gunther's son or not – he was still just a boy. Fighting a skirmish against enemy raiders was one thing. Commanding a militia squad against the might of the Imperial Army was quite another. Largo had seen plenty of people like this new lieutenant back in EWI: Young, idealistic with some romantic notion that war was a grand adventure. They never lasted, either cracking under the strain or getting killed because of their stupid mistakes, but not before they got someone else killed. Well, damned if Largo was going to let that happen. He'd been with this squad too long and had already seen too many good friends die because of stupid mistakes. If this kid started slipping, Largo would step in and take over. If he had to, he'd act to save lives now and deal with consequences later.