AN: Hey there, I'm a new writer to the GATE fandom. This fic is a one-shot that slightly explores the aftermath of the Battle of Alnus Hill, and is written in the perspective of a combat medic who has never taken part in a battle before. I was actually planning to write a prelude to this GATE fic I'm planning (which you can find details of in the Tales From Special Region forum), but this idea just popped into my head and I just wrote it. Well, I hope you enjoy this fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own GATE Jieitai, I just own a pair of torn sneakers.

Say one thing about a battle, say it never ends pretty.

Not that Sgt. Shuji Takumi had seen many battles; in fact, this was his first. The ground he stood on was, just the day before, green and luscious. Now, it was stained red with blood and crawling with bodies—the living ones at least. To say that he was alien to the change in surroundings was an understatement; to say that he was shocked to the bones and could not believe his eyes, well, that was an understatement too. Frankly, he could not describe his thoughts.

Frankly, he felt scared.

He raised his foot to take a small step forward, but froze as he nearly stepped on a man's face. The man stared at him, eyes opened, mouth opened, skull opened. Dead. Just like the man lying next to him. And the man over there, and there, and there. Shuji placed his boot down slowly next to the face, and trudged on, mindful to not slip on the blood.

There was a strange silence in the air. Never mind the hisses of the vultures, or the cries of the wounded; there was a strange silence, of which Shuji swore he could hear his own blood running. Somehow.

Helmets, swords, shields, axes, maces, bows, arrows, cuirasses, all one would expect to see in a museum, but Shuji saw them out here, littered on the slopes of the battlefield. Most were broken, some still could be used. Though, it was hard to imagine that they were of much use against modern armed forces to begin with; this battle had proved it, as did the number of the dead. He stopped in the crater of an artillery blast.

"Medic!" someone shouted, but Shuji didn't respond; he only stared dumbly at the burnt corpses at his feet. Then it came again, "Medic!"

He blinked, as if he had just remembered where he was. He looked around him, and, from the top of the hill to the bottom, the sight of death greeted him; there were other medics in the field as well, but they were busy helping with other wounded.

"Medic!" the cry came a third time, and he ran towards the voice, already fumbling to pull his first-aid kit out of his pack. He stepped on several bodies, prayed that their souls didn't mind his disrespect.

"Medic!"

The person who was shouting was Pvt. Konata Ogi and she was holding an Imperial soldier in her arms. Shuji saw the soldier was missing a leg at the knee, and he sprinted even faster. The last couple of meters was covered by a slide as Shuji dropped to his knees and the blood on the ground slipped him forward.

"I'm here. I'm here," Shuji said pointlessly to the soldier's bloody face. Konata nodded at him. "Let him lie down, and raise his leg for me."

Konata gently placed the soldier back down and, just as softly, alleviated the man's stump of a leg.

"Put some pressure!" The private immediately complied, and the soldier screeched out in pain.

Months of training kicked in as Shuji pulled out a tourniquet band out of his kit, then tied a tight knot round the soldier's thigh before turning windlass rod to tightened it further, eliciting more cries from the soldier. Shuji checked his wristwatch and wrote down the current time on the tourniquet; it was for the physician later when they need to know how long the tourniquet has been on.

One of the soldier's eye was swollen shut, and his breathing was becoming ragged. His sword was lying somewhere in the dirt. He said something Shuji couldn't understand. He shook his head.

"No, you're fine. You're going to be fine," Shuji said, even though he knew the man didn't speak Japanese. "You're going to be fine." He gave the man a reassuring smile, hoping to put him at ease.

"Cover the damn wound!" snapped Konata suddenly.

The realization that he had almost forgotten a crucial step hit Shuji like a truck. "Shit! Sorry," he said. "Okay, keep holding his leg up."

He plucked out the bits of grass and clumps of dirt on the soldier's leg, then retrieved a roll of bandage and wrapped it round the stump. Blood stained the white of the cloth, but it stopped spreading after a short while. A stretch of tape completed the job.

"Okay, let his leg down now. We're going to clean the wounds on his head now," Shuji said loudly, more so that he does not forget rather than for Konata's understanding. "Get his helmet off."

To say that the man's head was a bloody mess was somewhat accurate. While there weren't any deep cuts, there were many minor lacerations that adorned the face. Bright red blood peeped out through the torn skin, dripping down in drops. The soldier tried to say something again, but it got stuck in his throat.

"Shhhh," Konata hushed softly as she lifted his upper torso up slightly. "Don't talk."

Shuji had a white cloth in his hand, and he gently wiped the man's face, cleaning off the dirt, grass, and blood. The soldier winced heavily, but held back crying out. His breathing became raspy and he suddenly smiled. He shook his head.

"No, you're fine, my friend," Shuji said. "We're getting you to a doctor soon."

The Imperial soldier still kept smiling, then said something rather long-winded. He might have known that he wasn't being understood, that Shuji and Konata spoke a completely different language, but if he did he didn't show it; he continued speaking as if he knew his time had come and he wanted someone, even an enemy, to hear his last words.

His breaths started dragging longer, and his eyes rolled up, up to the sky, turning soft to being almost like a child's, and he said the only thing that Shuji could understand.

He said, "Mama…"

The soldier took a long inhale, eyelids closing, and when he exhaled, the life went out of him as well.

The bloodied cloth fell out of Shuji's grip, dropping to the ground, and the air suddenly became cold. Very cold.

"Sergeant?" whispered Konata.

He nodded. "I know," he responded. His hand was shaking, but he forced it under control long enough to reach for the man's pulse. There was a strange silence.

"Dead," he said, and Konata nodded; there were hints of tears around her eyes. Shuji sighed, and the vultures shrieked in the sky above.

Both he and Konata stayed quiet for the moment, unable to move. There was an understanding between them, an understanding between people who had someone die on them. This man was their first, and Shuji doubt that he was their last. There were still many wounded left on the battlefield, and he would have to go help them. How many would actually live though, he wondered, how many would he have to watch as they die?

Say one thing about a battle, and one thing only, say one battle…is enough for a lifetime.

AN: I think you are probably thinking that I ripped off Saving Private Ryan, which is 100% true and I deserved to be lynch. On a more serious note though, I hope my portrayal of a soldier was realistic.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic. Please do tell me if it's good or shit, point out any mistakes or flaws; be as blunt as possible, I won't mind if you do.

Well, that's the end of this one-shot, be sure to favorite, review, or PM me if you want. See ya.