Usual disclaimer: I own nothing of the series, I am writing for fun. Also because I blame a fellow writer for the stupidly strong temptations. And without further due, have fun reading (or throwing your darts at me, whichever floats your boat).

It was a very rough road to the camp.

"That place's full of the naughty ones, boyo. The boss over there ain't no pushover either. You sure you'd be all right? Gotta say, sending you there over a ruined patch of flowers is a bit petty. I mean, like, seriously?"

The driver, who has been full of things to talk about throughout our journey, asked that question.

I shrugged, and returned the driver a chuckle. "A punishment is a punishment. What am I to do about it?"

The base of operations for the 611st Joint Fighter Wing, as well as housing the 118th Joint Mechanized Corps.

According to hearsay from the top brass to the enlisted ranks, getting reassigned there is like getting sent to live in a penal colony. New recruits who got assigned there sent there get all kinds of bullying you can imagine… plus some more you possibly can't.

… Yet I feel somehow both pretty calm and anxious about getting there. Part of me wants to see for myself if it was as bad as they say. Another part of me is regretting that.

Corporal, or at least that's what my current rank is. In the battlefield they call me "Strike", and I kind of liked it. But I don't really want them to call me "Cpl. Strike," I feel it would be much more fitting when I do get to be a Sergeant some day. That aside…

"They say you're a lucky bastard, though. Imagine, a base full of ladies… you have to be gay to not like that, man. But that place is really harsh with guys for some reason. Almost every guy sent there either get booted out of the military for reasons nobody knows, and even if they make it back to their old camps they look as if they were put next to Neuroi, or possibly even worse."

The Neuroi.

Some sort of an alien existence that appeared a few years ago, and they say exposure to one's miasma, even for a Witch, can range from detrimental to outright fatal. They take on many forms, and recently, some also started to look like Witches, too.

And they cannot be killed by common firearms. Buggers, cheeky bastards. Pieces of shit. Someday there shall be a day where one can once more simply rain them with lead and blow them to bits. Otherwise it's the usual Witches this, Witches that every time one of these nuisances come by.

Speaking of which, there's these people called Witches on our side. And for some reason they have to somehow be prepubescent-looking women who somehow grows tails and ears as they use their magic. Magic, eh. I imagine that must be something pretty convenient.

Then again as a soldier, I believe that if it works then it works. Though personally even if it works it doesn't mean I like how it works. Really, I'd like it if someone out there would dedicate their time into figuring out how to make these buggers (the Neuroi) eat lead and drop dead like how any normal living being would. You know why? Because it seems I'm only here within the ranks along with the other men to support a bunch of girls getting their kills. I don't really like that.

Don't ask me why, I just don't. I mean, what else am I here for? When I pick up my rifle I expect anything I point at with it to die when I press the trigger. Yes, I am angry with the Neuroi for daring to defy this "magical boomstick" created by man for men.

"Oh yeah, actually, there's a reason why I'm asking if you would be fine there, man. For some reason that camp has a high turnover rate for male personnel. From getting KIA, MIA to outright booted out of the camp, I figure you'd have to be one hell of a motherfucker to get in there and still be in one piece, body and mind. Then again I guess you really are one, I mean what's with being in the forest for days in a Neuroi-infested land? That was some insane shit."

Oh, seems this driver knew of that story. Well, to be frank, I'm quite surprised at how it all turned out, too. Though considering how it happened then, I don't really see anything special with it. The kills go to a bunch of girls anyway.

"Oh, that? Jungle warfare. Being at the edge of an infested area makes me feel choked for air real hard, though. There are a few times I almost fainted but I managed to pull through somehow. It's mostly finding my way within the jungle, to point a company for an ambush, or calling in a squadron for an airstrike. Finding nests after nests."

"And you get no thanks for that?"

"Oh, I do. It's just that to actually dish out some hurt I have to call them in. These… uh, peashooters serve as distraction for the most part as well as shooting some other stuff out of the way where I could. So, yeah… You'd probably be better off asking those who went with me if they remember how their forest guide looked like. That's if they could."

"My condolences."

That makes it sound as if I actually died or something. Well, that reminds me, I was in a lot of trouble at that time. There were times I thought I'm going to bite the dust right there. It was really suffocating. And out of it there was this one experience I want to forget...

"Oh, we're here. Get ready to get down and greet your new lady boss."

– –

"Corporal Jean Titor, reporting. Ma'am, a good day to you."

The boss of the camp. Brigadier General Harley Briggs. Looks tough for her part, fitting of her rank. Though with that kind of appearance I am not sure if I used the correct honorific.

"Good day to you too. Also, for the record, it is 'Miss' for you. None of the girls here are married yet. I just hope you didn't come here to think of looking for a wife. They're off-limits to you. If you are then I suggest you give up your soldier's badge and uniform and go home."

"Far from it, Miss. And I believe I love my current career very, very much to give it up."

When speaking to a superior officer, no matter if they make sense to you or not, you have to reply back with a good tone. And by good I mean knowing your place. A really crafty private can probably knock even a general to their senses, but in general you'd better remind yourself that if you want to talk back, you'd better hope you don't get yourself a place in the defendant's seat of a court martial for defiance.

"Hmm. Very good… I take it that also means you're ready for your first duty, Corporal?"

"I would be very delighted to hear of it immediately, er, Miss."

"Good. Then it'll be the toilets for you first thing in the day. You see, the girls here have terrible clean-up habits, they need someone for that kind of uncool job."

Wait, what? Toilet clean-up? You have to be kidding me.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about the trash bin with used tampons and pads. Say, you don't have some sort of a sick inclination towards these, do you?"

"No, no! I don't. But having me to clean that up is… I mean I'm fine with the toilet and all. But, yes…"

"Then it's all good. I'd have to tell the top brass to sack you from the military if you do. Don't worry, you'll get to know how to dispose of them properly later. Though I'll have to keep it in mind to tell everyone about cleaning up after their own shit. No, not that kind of shit, though there are toilets which are that messy."

"Err..."

"Any objections?"

My moment of doubt was swiftly interrupted by a sharp glare accompanying that inquiry.

"… No."

"Good. After that, get ready for KP duty by eleven. You'll get to know the rest of everyone here by giving them their lunches."

… All right, this is feeling somewhat insane.

Me, with the enlisted rank of a Corporal, gets assigned to toilet cleaning and KP duty within my first few minutes of arrival. I wonder what would privates get to do in this situation. From the looks of it, I imagine it'd be a foot rug while facing down the floor, placed conveniently to get mud off their shoes before entering a building here.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get down to work real fast. It's only a few hours before afternoon. Oh, if you were a private you'd actually get some pretty easy jobs, you know. Like being a foot rug for the girls to get mud and dirt off their shoes after a few laps down the field before they enter the buildings. Some do like it, though, I wonder why."

They actually do!?

Actually, wait, what's with this camp, even. I remember it being "the worst place to be assigned to" sort of place from hearsay, probably this contributed to that.

"Come on, chop-chop! Or would you like a swing from this crop for you to move, you mule?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am!"

"It's 'Miss' to you, you forgetful bum! Now get to work. Pronto!"

And here we go, guess it's back to the drill sergeant hours for me here.

– –

Scrub, scrub, scrub. The sound of brush against the floor.

Either way, I was half-expecting the hygiene level here to be not all that bad. Turns out it was way worse than the worst I had expected. There were some broken doors, too. Some seats were missing, and there's a few broken pipes. The restrooms need more than just cleaning up. I can tolerate shit being everywhere on the floor but some of them looks as if they were thrown around, there were traces on the ceiling. As well as piss stains that look like a wild spraying of a Sten.

… Eugh. This toilet doesn't even look seasoned enough to pin the blame on whoever was previously here before it became a base of operations for the Witches. It's more like it was pretty brand new at some point but for some reason the way they used this restroom broke it in more ways than one.

Oh well. Clean-up, clean-up. Otherwise I figure going into the bushes for a dump might actually be a much more comfortable option for one who still wishes to tread upon this mess…

… And then there was one at the entrance.

And a pause.

"Uh, um..."

"Hello, there, pleased to make your acquaintance fellow soldier. Did you somehow miss the 'Cleaning in Progress' sign at the door, uh..."

"Er, Class 2 Private Heather Gurney! Pleased to meet you too! … Um, s-sir…?"

"Corporal Jean Titor, recently assigned here. … Say, you don't happen to be part of the 'foot rug' duty the Brigadier General told me about, do you…?"

"Eh? Me? Ah, no, no! … I don't know why myself but for some reason they say it's only reserved for the men… personally I don't really like seeing them getting that kind of job, so… um…"

Good, it seems she's at least able to introduce herself properly. I thought it'd be one of these annoying cases where the lady would scream upon a sudden first sight of an unfamiliar man in front of them. … The fact that all of these are happening inside the restroom aside.

"Well then, it seems we have a lot to do here so how about lending me a hand, Private?"

"Er, no can do, sir. The men here are expected to do all these by themselves and we cannot really give them any help so… um."

"Oh, really? What would they do if you did then? I can basically say I made you help me but will that stop them from pointing fingers at you too, if I may ask?"

"No… a-anyway, I am in a need to go about my business here, sir, so… if you will please…?"

I know this is an era where the young (or at least look like it) women get conscripted as potential additions to the Witches in service, but I think I might be looking at a tiny animal, like a hamster.

"In this toilet? Come on, you can see how…" I slowly spoke, one hand fanning the air in front of my nose, "… nasty it's looking right now? Don't you have better restrooms to go to?"

"Um… but… the seniors… told me..."

"Just a question, but how long have you been drafted into service?"

"Er, about six months right now, sir..."

Oh God, not that watery-eyed face. Okay, I think that as a private, she's being hazed. My guess was that there's really a much more amenable restroom available for use but her seniors were all hogging it and told her to scram.

Then behind her I saw several other figures. I assume they are fellow privates who got the same fate as her.

… Just what kind of base did I land into…

"Oh well."

I groaned. Well, this is a place where the ones who got sent here have some infamy with their name for the really stupid stuff, so adding a few more to my belt would just add more to the clown image some people think I have.

"Listen up, Private. You and your fellow privates will have to help me if you ladies want a decently workable loo for your business."

"B-but the orders..."

"When it comes to this kind of situation, common sense first, stupid orders later. Also if by any chance anyone asks why were you late, tell them the new Corporal guy accidentally fell asleep outside while cleaning and you guys had to harshly wake me up and finish it for you people to use."

"But that's…"

"Just do it. That way they will say it's my fault and not yours. It was my task in the first place."

And I figure this would do for a little bit of ice breaking. As I continue brushing the floor, I sensed something from my surroundings.

Next building, third floor by the window. I can see you, you know. Whoever you might be.

– –

It's almost lunchtime.

I somehow managed to get the toilet into a state where one would rather hightail it than think of taking a dump inside... into one where someone could at least comfortably sit on the stool for business. That is if they don't mind it being one of the stalls with the broken doors, though. Considering I had to do KP duty immediately afterwards, I had to clean myself up a lot.

I was thinking I could meet some more people from here assigned to KP, but for some reason I find myself back to meeting Pvt. Gurney and her fellow recruits once more. Don't tell me they were told to do KP as well…

"C… Corporal, sir!?"

"Hey, we meet again. You lot being tasked for KP duty too?"

"Y-yes… Along with…"

Gurney's stammering, hesitant speech was then interrupted by someone else's voice.

"Us Warhares," said the voice, "or rather the technicians for them."

"Uh..."

"Corporal Wanda Nash. Lead technician for the Warhare squadron of the 611st Joint Fighter Wing, not that the flyers would like acknowledging me with their squadron name. I assume you'd be the new guy everyone was talking about. Well, you're not the first guy who's stepped his foot inside this base, but I am curious how long will you be sticking here before something happens."

A Corporal like me, but from the flyers I suppose.

I briefly introduced myself like I did with Gurney. As we headed to our positions within the kitchen to start with our duties, I figured this would be a good time to know who I would be working with.

There seems to be an unspoken level of hierarchy, somewhat related to ranking and seniority, in this base. Freshmen like Gurney tend to be hazed a lot and get sent to do the menial tasks while the more senior ones will often grab the credits for catching the bigger fishes despite having the objectives brought by the recruits right before them so that they can just reach out with one hand to get it. According to her, there used to be other men in the base, but as I've been made to know earlier, they were all now gone – either by going missing, kicking the bucket or in some way or another, got themselves out from here.

Nash also noted that there were some really unruly officers in the base, most of which tend to be full-blown Witches – complete with cliques for the very influential ones.

As to what I think on all of these… This is pretty screwed up. The devil in me sings I'm in good company, but imagining I have to bear with this kind of environment sends shudders to my spine. No, definitely not the good kind of shudder.

What makes me wonder is why would Brig. Gen. Briggs turn a blind eye to all these.

"Speaking of which, Corporal, here's one of them."

"Hey there, ladies. Is lunch ready yet over all your chit-chatting?"

My head turned towards the source of the voice. Noticing my glance, she turned her head towards me, and our eyes met.

"Oh? You are… you must be the new guy the girls were talking about, aren't you?"

"Pleased to meet you. I'm-"

"Not interested. You'll be gone after a while anyway, just like the other guys did."

I knitted my eyebrows. Quite the quick assumption there, lady. Although I have to admit, now I'm getting really curious as to where I will be after a while here, too. What will it be? Still doing the yes-man jobs here like a slave, vaporized by a Neuroi, getting into trouble with anyone here that earns me a boot out of the camp, or me leaving my soldier life forever. Or any combination of all of these.

Nash, working next to me, whispered. "Major Harvey Macmillan, squadron leader of the Warhares. She's always been like that. She's been scanning you from top to bottom when she got into the mess hall, and that would be before she approached us. Probably wondering if you could be her new boy toy. They don't last long, though… and I don't mean in the bed."

I rolled my eyes over the last few bits. "Gee. Thanks for informing me, Corporal Wanda Nash," I whispered back, emphasizing some sarcasm in my tone.

"You're welcome," she replied.

The Major was getting impatient. "Talking smack about me when I'm right here? I heard that, you know. So, what are we having for lunch?"

"Rice and curry," Nash answered her.

"Again?"

"Where do you think we are, Major?"

"Look, I know this is somewhere near the Equator, despite all the Neuroi bullshit it's a strategic place for commerce therefore you tend to get lots of spices from the Indian Federation bu-"

"Major, I do not decide what gets to be on the menu. The Brigadier General supervises the daily menu herself."

"Tch," she clicked her tongue, and whispered to herself, "that bi-"

"That what now?"

A voice interrupted her from her behind.

"Gbhffh-!?"

It was the Brigadier General. "Having some problems with the KP staff here, Major?"

"N-no! No problems whatsoever."

"Then hurry up and take your lunch, you're holding the others up."

"Yes, yes…"

The Brigadier General turned towards me. "Corporal Jean, please come with me. I figure this is where I'll have your introductions in order."

"Yes, Miss."

As I walked out of the kitchen to follow the Brigadier General, Nash gave me several hand signals.

"Good luck, have fun with the introductions," was what she signaled. Surprising to know I could understand that, though.

– –

I was standing on a stage within the mess hall. I figure this is where performances were held when they have some pretty major events going on like some sort of annual dinner.

Standing in front of me was the Brigadier General.

I had to admit that this is getting me somewhat nervous, but who doesn't? I started scanning around the hall as the Brigadier General made her speech in an attempt to feel a bit calmer.

Let's see… On one corner there was the Major with a bored look on her face, but her eyes doesn't seem to leave me. Moving on… there's a particular one giving me some… suggestive stares. Wiggling eyebrows. That aside, I suppose I could start figuring things who am I locking my eyes with as a distraction… on the shoulders: Bright blue with two stripes near the end, each of them containing a white stripe placed in between two navy blue stripes… a Lieutenant. Name patch on her chest reads "Eden." So I suppose I am looking at a Lieutenant Eden here. Quite the firm build there, missy.

Moving on… the one next to the Lieutenant. I could not tell if she had one hell of a poker face as her everyday face or she's intently studying whatever the Lieutenant was pointing at. She had one more stripe of the same variety as the Lieutenant so I suppose she would be a Wing Commander… or was it Captain in the Witches' terms? Anyway her name patch reads "Urquhart." So this would be a Captain Urquhart.

I glanced back to the kitchen, without turning my head. That hamster (Gurney) was next to what I suppose her buddy looking on as they do their jobs, same goes to Nash. They look as if they are telling me to be safe… Well, I don't know if that was what they were thinking, but I have to say my thanks.

"So without further due I present to you Cpl. Jean 'Strike' Titor. Mr. Titor, if you would please come forward."

I was suspended from my self-distraction by the Brigadier General.

Now at the mic, I took a deep breath, and introduced myself, starting with the basics like name, rank and my previous affiliations and responsibilities.

And come the Q&A sessions, this would be where I suppose all kinds of questions pop out…

"Are you single or married?"

"You have a girlfriend?"

"Do you read Playboy?"

"Do you jerk off?"

… Figures.

"No, no, no and no. Either way it's a no," I bluntly shot these questions down. Even if I have any of these, that is my privacy.

"Way to go, Corporal, getting sexual harassment within a few seconds after introducing yourself," the Brigadier gave me a smirk. Well, why aren't you stopping them then? You are a Brigadier General, for God's sake. Is there a reason why you should let them say whatever?

I glanced back at the kitchen.

"God bless you," signalled Nash.

Yeah, right. Well, I suppose I better get this wrapped up nicely. I'm getting hungry for lunch too.

"As per usual introductions, I look forward towards working with you people, officers and fellow soldiers alike. … Professionally."

And with that, here be the beginnings of my days in this… curious base.

[ Insert Author's Notes Here ] ←Intentional screwing around.

Hello readers, whoever you are, wherever you might be.

It has been a while since I actually wrote a piece under this account. My previous track record of writing were less than average in my books so I figure I should actually start cleaning up the ones I don't intend to keep anymore. If you look at my history, I tend to subscribe by these few modes of writing: "By the Seat of Your Pants" and "mood-based." As long as I can spit everything out into a word processor and can keep it going, I suppose I can get myself a story or two every now and then. I suck at planning because I tend to throw everything out once I finish outlining them, so I figure if I had something in mind I tend to go with "Let it happen as you write" mentality. But yeah, as long as I have the drive, I have the means.

Initially the Strike Witches universe was never looked at even as a bogey under my "radar of interesting things." But somehow someone managed to convince me it's not all cute girls, boobs and flat chests, and panties in Flying Nopants Land. As well as a certain doujinshi-ka introduced by the same someone which struck my radar in all the right places where I want it to be.

I started writing blind until along the way I figured out several themes and settings I could use, so I went along with whatever I had in mind. So it's safe to say I don't even know where I'm going with this… actually I do, but there are many roads to take. Dead end, one true path, many forks… I don't know what I'll come up with next before I get to the next checkpoint towards the goal. Maybe I could probably make it more systematic by actually writing them all down when I remember and throwing a die every time I need instant ideas?

Some of the characters' surnames except for our Corporal man, the 611st JFW as well as the 118th JMC all had explanatory notes I made for them which I will expand more as I write. Also figuring out the "611" and "118" actually had me playing some math tomfoolery with alphabets, I felt this was my first time resorting to such things and it kind of makes the worldbuilding feel more… interesting?

Either way, any longer and I would probably end up making a chapter-length author's notes so I don't want that. By the way if anyone is curious about how everyone looks like, considering I'm trying to build an original premise by borrowing the SW elements, I have some sketches but I have not put them up yet, or rather I have no idea where to put them. For the first few ones I have Jean, Harvey, Heather, Harley and Wanda up in my digital sketchbook. I'll get to the others once I feel I can start working on more to come up…. In which, for fear of the worst (a hanging story) I (and you) will have to pray that my interest keeps vested enough to continue. I have a bad track record with these so this time I'd like to fix that (at least better than before where I just kind of stop).

Also I have quite a big list of life responsibilities to keep up with so expect update to be on "whenever it happens." Nevertheless I'll count on the other certain writer to keep "brainwashing" me with motives to write even more so at least I'm not alone in trying to keep my motivation here up unlike what I've done up till now.