Chapter 6: Battle of Italica Part 2

Hernandez hated low crawling. Last time he had to low crawl in a battle it was through a field of brahmin manure. A small farm on the outskirts of Legion territory that had been abandoned for a few days. He had to crawl through the brahmin pen in order to avoid Legion scouts at night and he ended up being covered in the manure that had not been cleaned since the farmers left. Luckily the smell wasn't bad, but he still hated it since he had stains on his uniform for weeks before he could take a proper shower.

As his Captain said, the enemy did indeed place campfires at their makeshift camp. He could see dozens of campfires, which would probably mean that this camp had a few hundred bandits. The camp had no real barricades, just tents haphazardly placed all around the forest. Guess the bandits believed they could relax when the sun went down.

Old US Army training doctrine always stated that light discipline must be exercised during low visibility in order to reduce the chance of the enemy detecting you. Much of the NCRs doctrine was based on those old manuals. Even then, with the low foliage around the wastelands, campfires during campaigns was begging for an attack by Legion or Raiders.

Now the enlisted man was using the enemies lack of light discipline as an advantage. Most of the fires were out, but the burning coal and embers gave them enough visible light to see the enemy positions all around. Without the leadership by their Officers in both the allied kingdoms and the Imperial Legion, the bandits discipline waned. Most were sleeping in makeshift sleeping bags made from animal furs, or simply on the ground with a straw mat and stitched or hide blanket. The tents were small and varied in size and general design, but the largest could only barely fit two people during sleep.

Guards patrolled the area with either makeshift torches or lanterns that was looted from the surrounding villages. They barely allowed the bandits to see but made them perfect targets for their own soldiers. Due to the low discipline and the feeling of safety in the night, very few guards patrolled. This was in contrast to NCR doctrine, which states that while in direct combat at night, half of the unit guards while the other sleeps and rotates every 4-6 hours. It was randomized to prevent the enemy from knowing when guard change was.

At this moment though, his remaining 200 or so soldiers in his Company was awake and slowly crawling to their respective objectives. They moved as silently and low as possible, something made easier by the light breeze that made the grass and trees sway in the darkness and masking their approach. Ammo was distributed evenly among the Company to ensure everyone had the ability to shoot. This had the unfortunate side effect of each man only having 5 to 15 rounds. Not even enough to fill one magazine. Bayonets were attached to their Service Rifles and ready for if they needed to close distance.

Hernandez waited, his plan depending on the guards being silenced. Some of his soldiers crawled their way to the sleeping guards, who were barely able to stay standing from the lack of sleep. Hernandez was thankful that they lacked the experience of having to stay awake for long hours into the night.

Slowly, one by one, the lights from the guards were extinguished. His troops were able to close the distance and quickly subdue the guards. It was a huge gamble, if even one of this men made a mistake then their entire plan was done for. He couldn't see exactly what happened, only hearing a slight scuffle and then silence. This was then followed by the light going out. Luckily the bandits in the camp were not awaken by the disturbance.

Hernandez stood up when he was just on the outskirts of the camp and moved in. His soldiers silently patting each other in order to mobilize the whole company. In almost perfect silence the troops moved into the camp. Minus the sound of a few men tripping or hitting a branch they couldn't see, there was very little noise produced and the enemy remained asleep.

As Hernandez walked into the camp he saw one bandit standing and facing him, barely awake and his trousers down. Clearly he was answering natures call in the middle of the night. Hernandez moved quickly and stabbed the man right in the chest with his bayonet. The shock, pain, and surprise silenced the man. With his solar plexus stabbed he was unable to breath in or exhale, forever silencing him. Hernandez let him fall to the ground, then heard the sound of the man being stabbed again by one trooper behind him in order to ensure he was dead.

Hernandez moved to his next target, a man who was on the ground with a blanket around him. Barely visible with the red glow of the fire next to him. Around the campfire was a few other sleeping men. There was no real plan on how they would be killed. Each soldier would pick a target and silence them. This required each soldier to be quick, decisive, and able to make decisions on the move without thinking. It was a classic case of controlled chaos.

As Hernandez began stabbing, he heard other men meet their fate the exact same way. Occasionally the noise would awaken a man nearby, but his soldiers were fast enough to kill the bandit before he could say anymore than one or two words. With the first group of men cleared they had to move on to the next group. They would have to move quickly before the bandits were made aware of the situation.

Occasionally he'd hear a small struggle. Either the bandit was able to react or a trooper didn't stab him efficiently. Luckily there was always another trooper near by to assist in the kill before more bandits were alerted. All of this was a massive gamble. Hernandez knew that if the entire camp was awoken before they succeeded then they would be finished.

One bandit stood up and was either an experienced veteran or a lucky soldier and was able to react before Hernandez could stab him. He managed to push the bayonet away from him and tried to stand up, almost yelling as he did so. The noise woke up other bandits but luckily they were too groggy and were quickly killed by his troopers. Hernandez straddled the man before he could stand and clamped his gloved hand around his mouth, reducing the noise to a muffle.

Hernandez took out a small hunting knife that he would occasionally use for general work, and began to stab the man in the side of the neck. Once the knife was in he pulled it out in a sawing motion in order to cut his carotid artery. The man struggled as he did so but was unable to overpower the senior enlisted man. With a few more weak attempts to dislodge him, the bandit passed out from lack of blood to the brain and would eventually die.

It was getting too close. They're having too many close calls. He'd guess they're only 50 bandits in by this point and already they were starting to struggle. As they pushed more and more, the bandits were having more time to react. They needed to be faster.

Standing up and grabbing his rifle, Hernandez pushed forward. He looked around to ensure that his men were still keeping pace. With the limited light he saw that they were spreading out too much and unable to effectively move as one large group. He could only hope they fixed it because he was unable to give orders to them to stay together, otherwise he'd wake up the bandits.

"What is going on?" Came a voice directly to his left. A bandit woke up and was staring directly at them. Hernandez could barely see his face, but he knew they were discovered. No one was close enough to subdue him and Hernandez was sure this was the beginning of the fight.

The bandit screamed in his native tongue. As loud as he could. This had the chain reaction of waking up other bandits nearby. Those bandits took a moment to clear their sleep ridden heads and assess the situation. Once they knew what was going on, they too yelled.

"Fuck!" Hernandez screamed. "Weapons free! Conserve ammo!" He yelled to his men.

Hernandez felt now was as good a time as any to accept death. He knew that they only killed maybe one tenth of their total force, meaning that they would be drawn into a melee fight with the bandits.

What happened next was almost a blur. At first some of the bandits attacked each other in the confusion, mistaking their own comrades as NCR troops. With the extreme low light visibility it made it nearly impossible for the sleepy and adrenalin filled men to distinguish friend from foe. Hernandez would have counted his lucky stars if they all ended up killing each other right then and there, but after a few casualties the bandits were able to get a grasp of the situation and move in the direction of the NCR.

Since they moved so quickly and rapidly, they were towards the center of the camp. This meant that all 200 men were surrounded on all sides minus the immediate route they carved through. Though in the excitement it was impossible to tell where that route was. There was no escaping this fight.

During this time, a few rounds were fired by the troopers. There was maybe a round every few seconds as each man lined up his shot as best he could. Every shot counted, and if they put multiple rounds into their targets then they would quickly run out of ammo. Most shots did result in at least a bandit falling over, but some would stand back up. The pain of the bullet wound was masked by the adrenalin of battle.

As the bandits rushed them, he noticed that some of the bandits didn't have shields or accidentally grabbed the wrong sword. Some men scrambled for their swords that was taken in the chaos. No one that rushed them was armored since they didn't have time to put on their mismatched armor. This would give them an edge since their body armor would be able to withstand a few cuts and stabs, depending on the sharpness of the blade and strength of the wielder.

Hernandez braced himself for the impact, ensuring that his rifle was pointed forward. His bayonet was slightly dulled from piercing so many rib cages and was completely slick with blood that ran down the barrel. He was worried that his Service Rifle would jam if he tried to fire it from all the blood.

The fighting was brutal. Bandits surrounded the NCR and when their bullets ran dry, they resorted to melee. If a man lost his rifle in the chaos he grabbed a knife. If a trooper didn't have a knife then he used whatever he could. All around him NCR troopers fought the bandits with rifles, knives, swords, and shovels. Some soldiers even took off their helmets to use as a blunt object.

NCR troopers and bandits alike screamed as they were stabbed, beaten, and crushed by the various weapons all around the battlefield. The campfires casting a red glow all around the forest that created biblical depictions of the pits of hell. Some men on both sides tried to communicate in order to bring some semblance of order and strategy. But between the low light and the deafening sound of screams, it was impossible.

Suddenly though, after Hernandez killed his fifth bandit, he noticed the noise died down. Even in the low light he could see that his men were still around. Maybe 1/3rd of the Company was dead or wounded, but there were still a lot of NCR soldiers around and less bandits. After he regained his situational awareness did Hernandez realize that most if not all the bandits were gone. Some still fought a few troopers, not realizing that their comrades were no where to be seen.

Truthfully, Hernandez didn't know what happened. One minute they were surrounded, and the next they weren't. Later when he would give his debriefing and had time to think, he would say that either they attacked so quickly that the bandits believed there were more NCR troopers than there were and ran, or they simply decided the looting just wasn't worth dying over.

Regardless, Hernandez knew they didn't kill even a fraction of the bandits in the camp, yet it was still empty regardless. The thousands of shadows and voices replaced by an almost deafening silence that was broken by the occasional moan of pain by NCR troopers and bandits who were still alive.

The enemy was routed. A group of 200 men with almost no ammo managed to intimidate and route a thousand bandits. He knew they would be unable to reorganize for another attack and would either find themselves walking right into the JSDF in the south or scatter in the wind to try and re-salvage their lives.

The fight was over for now, but if they hoped to make this mean anything then they'd have to quickly capitalize. The other bandit camps in the area would need to believe that their force was larger than it was, so they needed more units to come and relieve them with fresh troops.

"Gather wounded and dead!" Hernandez ordered his men as the fighting finally died down. "Private!" He yelled to one soldier.

"Yes 1SG?" The kid asked.

"Send a message to CP, we've taken a large camp and need immediate re-enforcements." He said as the Private acknowledged and ran off. Truthfully, Hernandez was pleasantly surprised that they survived.

Pina took a break in the early morning in order to watch as the NCR soldiers worked to set up their ballista looking weapons. She couldn't understand it. There was no bow in order to fire bolts and no axel in order to shoot rocks like a catapult. At first she believed that their ballista's were simply taken apart for easy storage and transportation, but after a few hours of moving it towards the center of the city and turning some wheels, the soldiers just stopped what they were doing. They sat around and talked in a strange language, joking and laughing as they sat around like common soldiers.

An uneducated Legionnaire would probably believe that they were simply undisciplined and would wait until the last minute to finish setting up their ballista's. After all, they placed them far too close to the center of the town of Italica. There's no way they would be able to even reach the walls, let alone be useful in the upcoming siege. Even if they were meant to be used in case the walls were breached, they were obstructed by the building in the way. Although the strange barrel was pointed over them, there was no way they would be able to effectively aim and shoot over the building in order to hit a formation.

Pina of course, was not uneducated. Despite her low position on line in the Imperial right to the throne, she still had some of the best education in the Empire. She knew that an enemy that would give the Empire trouble would not be so stupid as to make so many blunders.

Then there are the strange egg shaped things that were placed in crates. She couldn't exactly figure out what they were. They were placed near by and would almost be believed to be storage devices for the bolts. But she couldn't tell why they were stored in conical shaped metal pots. It seemed like it would be far too heavy to easily transport when wooden crates would be enough.

"Something wrong princess?" Came a voice behind her. That strange man who knew their language and acted as their translator. He was just a courier but he was shown great respect by the Officer of these soldiers. Pina's gut told her to be wary of him.

"Not at all "Courier"." She said with a slight tone. She found it absurd that his name would be his profession, though judging by the scars on his face, it was possible he was rendered lame by a severe head injury.

"How are the villagers doing?" The Courier asked her. She was surprised he showed so much interest in what was for all intense and purposes, an enemy village. Did they not want to enslave them? Or maybe they were using the resources in Italica to keep them fed and healthy, only to later enslave and sell them. That way they didn't waste their own food and water for the upcoming battle.

"The men have been recruited to bolden the militia, and the women and children are busy preparing meals and clothes." Pina said. She honored his request to ensure they had a place, but even he agreed that they would need every able bodied man to fight.

"Good to hear." The Courier smiled.

There was a silence that followed. Pina entertained the common man, mainly because he was their interpreter, but she also didn't like how relaxed he was around her. Did he not care of her status? Her rank in the noble elite of the Empire. Even though they were enemies, it was standard practice for all nobles to be treated with respect, no matter what side they were on.

The only ones who could enslave or forcibly marry a noble was another noble. Even the commoners in other nations showed their enemy nobles respect. It was a very useful practice among the various countries. Nobles who were captured either were used as status symbols for the elite of the country or ransomed off for a large some of gold. Pina saw how this system was used by the Empire. Many of her friends growing up were daughters of captured noble women who were arranged into marriages with their captors.

"Tell me who you are?" She asked the Courier.

"I told you. I'm just a Courier." He shrugged.

Pina wanted to call him on his bluff. He was too relaxed with the Officer and was too casual with her. He carried himself with an air of confidence and self-respect. Something no commoner has ever done in her presence. He lacked the grace and posture of a man born to a noble family, but it was made up by his confidence and relaxed demeaner.

Pina though, decided to drop the subject. She would learn soon enough just who he was. If he was a noble, then she could enslave him and ransom him off back to the NCR and begin making her own wealth that was separate from her fathers treasury. If he truly was a commoner, then the small money she'd make selling him off to a slave trader would be enough.

"Fire Mission!" Yelled one of the men in brown as they all stopped their joking and got to work on the ballista's.

"You're going to want to see this." The Courier smiled and motioned for her to stand near him. She decided to humor him and did as he instructed.

There were six of the ballista's on this side of the cities center, all oriented to face the barrels south. They were in a small open area that was normally used as a market before the men in brown took it over.

One man went to a metal box and seemed to talk into it. Was it a a religious thing? He placed a clamp like thing to his ear and talked into it. Was it a prayer for the battle to come?

Pina assumed they were practicing, honing their skills for the upcoming battle. It was common for the Legions to rehearse before battle in order to make sure they were able to operate with little guidance from Officers. This allowed Officers to survey the environment and less on ensuring their men followed orders.

After speaking in their language and giving orders to each other, orders that Pina could not understand, she saw them open a door in the back of the barrel. First, one of the conical shaped metal pots was placed inside. Then another thing, a cylinder of some kind was placed behind it in the barrel. After they were placed, the barrel was closed. The men in charge would say a string of orders, only for the men to repeat them back to them.

There was one man near the metal box who raised his hand, as if preparing to give a command to loose a volley of arrows. The men gripped the sides of their heads and cupped their ears. Strangely, the Courier did the same thing. Was this another religious thing? Not like it was loud right now. Aside from the orders being yelled, there were no sounds of battle or screaming of men.

"FIRE!" The man screamed and brought his hand down.

Thing is, how would you describe the sheer deafening sound of a volley of Howitzers going off to someone who didn't even know what gunpowder was? How would you prepare them for something that was essentially described as magic? How do you prepare them for the sheer power and noise that would never be felt or heard naturally in their primitive world?

Pina had no thoughts. She couldn't even fathom what happened. After the first spew of fire from the barrel of one of the ballista's, she couldn't hear anything aside from ringing. Multiple waves hit her chest, almost as if she was just punched all over her torso. The sheer force and surprise rendered her completely motionless. Panic and instinct brought her hands to her ears, trying desperately to prevent that from happening again.

In her panic, Pina didn't even realize she was sitting on the ground, her knees brought together to shield herself from a potential attack. She had no idea what happened, only that they survival part of her mind screamed to protect from anything.

She didn't even register the second wave of pressure that hit her. If she payed attention, she would've noticed that them men took something out of the barrels and restarted the process to reload the barrels. Though she was too focused on staying alive against a supernatural threat.

"Sorry!" She barely heard the Courier scream as he knelt down near her. She could hear him, but only just. "I forgot that you're not used to this, otherwise I would have given you some warning!" He laughed.

Laughed? Laughed!? He had the audacity to laugh at her? Was he not as confused as she was? What force outside of the gods could possibly make such a display of power!?

There was no logic to her mind. Only panic and fear. Is this what they're capable of? To place these weapons in the front lines and spew fire that was louder than a dragon? To destroy the enemies that dared to charge their lines? Now she saw why they were in the center. If the bandits invaded, they would be destroyed the moment they came close to these weapons.

After ten minutes of sustained fire, they finally stopped. The ringing in her ears was still present, but luckily has faded to where she could have a conversation again.

"I see now what those are Courier." Pina stated honestly. Already her tactical mind began formulating how to defeat them. As long as they can be flanked, they could be defeated. After all, they were slow to reposition and only one could fire on the flank in order to prevent their allies from being killed. She's glad she had the opportunity to see it. "They will prove useful once the bandits invade." She said offhandedly.

"What do you mean?" The Courier asked.

"It was an excellent rehearsal." She said honestly, truly complimenting the men in brown for their discipline. These men with these barrels would be given a choice when captured. Either assist the Empire in making these weapons and be given their freedom, or become enslaved on the markets.

"It wasn't a rehearsal." The Courier stated, much to her surprise.

"How isn't it?" She asked with irritation. "Do you see the bandits in front of them?" She pointed after asking rhetorically.

"I keep forgetting." The Courier laughed again. She was half tempted to enslave him now for how he was demeaning her. As if she was a child who didn't know what a sword was. "They're "Howitzers"." He stated.

""How-it-tsers"?" She repeated in broken English.

"Close." He said. "They're long range artillery. They're used to engage enemies from a distance." This surprised her.

"How!?" She asked.

"They can basically shoot a projectile at distance using those "Shells". his makes it so you can engage the enemy from a distance." He explained.

"The bandits are leagues away from us, in the southern forest. That's impossible." She stated incredulously.

"No. they definitely are on their way to hit them." The Courier said. Granted by now, the forested area they were at was probably demolished. Hopefully the coordinates were right, or else they either missed or worse, hit NCR positions.

"But how can they aim like that? How do you make sure they hit something that far?" She asked.

"Don't know exactly. But essentially those radios... the box right there... allow units to communicate over long distance. They simply give directions on known locations on a map, then the soldiers on the front tell them to adjust in order to hit the target. The guys who are aiming are the NCR troopers in the southern forest." He explained as best he could.

Pina was horrified. Where's the honor in fighting? How do you stop this? They could be so far from the battle that there was no way you could stop their attacks from that distance. Would the bandits even know the projectiles were hitting them? What was hitting them? The massive "Shell"? Or did it break into pieces and rain down when it left the barrel. She couldn't imagine what it was currently doing.

"My name is 1LT Itami, Yoji; Japanese Self Defense Force." Itami introduced himself in English to one of the NCR patrols that were on the main road leading to the city of Italica. With the current operations that they have been conduction, the NCR had been all over the area. They have set up checkpoints, patrol routes, and supply depots all around the southern part of the region of Italica. They have been reported as avoiding the Italica/Koda border, which Hazama assessed was to avoid potential accidents with NCR forces.

To the right of their convoy was an open field that was covered in tents and equipment. There were dozens of pallets that each had stacks of crates. These were likely NCR supply depots that they used to transport to the front. Intel has stated they are having serious logistical issues so Itami figured this was mostly what was available to them.

Additionally, there were multiple locations that had injured soldiers from the fighting. Many were unmoving or placed in body bags due to passing from their wounds. There were likely hundreds of soldiers who were either dead or injured. Itami could hardly imagine a scenario where the JSDF would have that many men dead or hurt.

The NCR soldier stood just outside of Itami's vehicle, talking through the window of the truck that Itami occupied.

"What are you doing out here sir?" The NCR soldier asked, making sure to show a bit of respect to the foreign Officer.

"We're trying to reach Italica in order to meet with local leaders in the area. Simple scouting." Itami stated. He knew it was risky to mention that he wanted to try and meet with NCR leadership, since that could potentially give away that they could listen into their communications. So he played it off as wanting to meet the people of Italica instead.

"We can't let Japs walk around without an escort sir." The trooper stated, which was fair to Itami. "We are currently engaging local forces and don't want to risk your safety." He stated honestly.

"If possible, we would like to meet with your Commanding Officer." Itami stated. "If you could escort us back to your main base then we could meet him since General Hazama has stated that he would like to officially set a date to meet with your General." It was a slightly haphazard deflection in order to get the trooper to tell them the location of their Commander, but Itami felt like the trooper wouldn't think much of it.

"One moment sir." The trooper said and walked away, leaving the JSDF to wait in their convoy.

Itami leaned back in his seat to get a bit of rest. His team had driven since very early in the morning and it was nearing mid day. He just wanted to get some sleep and hopefully rest. The few Manga he brought from home was no longer interesting him since he read them 5 times already. With no internet in the Special Region he was starting to get bored.

"Sir, there's a lot of wounded over there." Kurokawa stated. Itami looked out to the NCR tents and noticed a lot of men were laying on improvised cots. The NCR medics did the best they could, but he could tell they were in a lot of pain.

"Yea." Itami said solemnly. "They are." He honestly didn't know what to say to that. Not exactly like he could do much.

"Permission to go over there and offer my assistance." Kurokawa asked.

"Why?" Itami asked. "We're not staying for long." Itami mentioned.

"Regardless of the information, I have a duty as a medical practitioner to help where I can." She stated seriously. "We have enough medical supplies to assist where we can." She pushed.

Basic JSDF policy is normally to withhold giving aid or supplies to non JSDF personnel. Even civilians typically weren't supposed to be aided while a convoy was on a mission. The JSDF had specific civil affairs units who's purpose was rendering aid to civilians and in this case, locals. However, despite this general rule of thumb, most Commanders didn't mind if you assisted locals while on mission. As long as you didn't create logistical dilemmas.

After all, the JSDF was a force for good.

"Permission granted Kurokawa." Itami waved at her, giving her the go ahead. She smiled and exited the vehicle with her aid bag, which had additional medical equipment that most soldiers didn't have.

Her aid bag was newly issued. Unlike the camo pattern that was printed on most JSDF equipment, this aid bag had the gray digital that was issued to the US Army. Thanks to assistance from the US, Japan had a large amount of medical gear and supplies that they issued to many of their soldiers beyond the Gate. She was glad to see that if there is one thing that most western nations agreed with, it was assisting and preserving life.

"Hold up lady." One of the NCR soldiers stopped her. She noticed on his collar was a rank that she was vaguely familiar with. While she attended a joint training exercise with the US Military a little while ago, though she didn't remember the ranks very well. But she did notice that this rank was very similar to the US ranks. It was three chevron styled stripes with three round striped bellow that. There was also a diamond in the center of the rank. She may not exactly remember what the US rank was, but she knew this man was likely a senior enlisted man.

"My name is Sergeant First Class Kurokawa Mari." She saluted him, hoping to show respect to the man. Though she was unsure if it was appropriate to salute him.

"Oh... ah..." The man stuttered as he seemed caught off guard. "I... uh... I'm Enlisted lady. Please don't salute me." He requested.

"Forgive me." She said. "I'm a member of the JSDF and am requesting to render aid to your men." The enlisted man seemed a little confused.

Kurokawa noticed the conflict in his expression. He seemed like he wanted to turn her away, but she could also see the battle waging inside him. He seemed like he desperately wanted someone to help his men.

"Alright." He said. He motioned for her to follow.

He lead her into a tent that had 20 cots lined up on both sides. There was a small path that allowed medical personnel to pass through and enough room between the cots for medics to render aid. There was very little in the way of medical equipment. Mostly discarded needles and blood packs that they used to transfer blood. Most men were badly injured, but at a glance she could tell most would survive as long as they didn't get infected.

"These are some of my guys that got fucked up last night." The NCO stated. "We did a raid on a bandit camp and things got close. Most of us had to engage in melee combat. Unfortunately they have an advantage there." He stated sadly.

"I'll do what I can." Kurokawa said.

She moved to one of the most injured men. He was in a lot of pain and moaned loudly as he tried to move around. His face was covered in a bloody bandage, likely trying to prevent additional blood loss. His leg also had a bandage and a severe laceration. It looked like it nearly got an artery, but luckily there didn't seem to be any arterial bleeding. Kurokawa knew that this man will likely be able to survive as long as the wound stayed clean.

She took out her aid bag and began working on the man.

The enlisted man was watching her every step of the way. He looked impressed by what he saw. Kurokawa noted that a lot of the soldiers carried a small pouch on the left side of their belt that had a red cross symbol painted on it. Likely the NCR version of an Individual First Aid Kit. However, judging by the size it probably wouldn't be able to hold more than a bandage and maybe some pain medication. It reminded her of a brief she attended that showed the history of first aid and how American Soldiers during World War Two only had the very basic of medical supplies. these days, every soldier carried enough medical supplies to fix most wounds until a medic arrived.

A soldiers job in first aid was to keep the victim alive until a medic arrives. The medics job is to keep them alive until they get the victim to a doctor. Although it seemed the NCR had a very similar system, they seemed very ill-equipped compared to countries in her world. Though, considering the basic information she learned of their world, it seems they are still recovering after their nuclear apocalypse.

It was funny. It was always a running joke that the only people in the world who knows what a nuclear war would look like was Japan. However, here was a world that literally went through it. They survived and rebuilt, but nowhere near the capabilities of what was likely a prosperous world in the late 2070s.

"Make sure that he gets plenty of rest and clean the wound regularly. I don't want it to get infected." She stated.

She moved onto the next person and did the same. Either using some of the NCRs supplies or her own in order to treat as many people as she could while also making sure she had supplies for her recon team. She readdressed wounds, gave medication where needed, disinfected lacerations, and tried her best to sooth the men who were in pain. A few times an NCR soldier would become lucid and make a pass at her. Either saying how beautiful she was or comment about how lovely her voice sounded. She admits she never really got this kind of attention while treating her fellow JSDF, though their injuries were mostly sprained joints or cuts so they were very much conscious. Especially since that could lead to sexual harassment cases if they came off as creepy. Although Kurokawa never would go that route unless absolutely warranted.

She felt very bashful at the comments, at least until one NCR soldier decided he wanted to take advantage of her while she leaned over him to address a wound. The soldier reached up and caressed her rear. She was too unbalanced to step away and vaguely thought of smacking him out of instinct. Though she controlled that impulse due to the fact that he had a head injury. She didn't know if he was faking being dazed or if he was fully alert and knew what he was doing. Either way she decided to handle the situation with tact and simply grabbed his hand and gently put it on the bed. He tried a few more times while she checked him over, but each time she firmly returned his hand to his side.

After an hour or so, Kurokawa stepped out of the tent and wiped the sweat from her brow. She was exhausted from treating the injured men. Some of them she knew there wasn't much that could be done without surgery. All she could do was comfort them as best she could.

"Thank you for the help miss." She heard behind her. The enlisted man who allowed her to work on his men walked up beside her.

"I took and oath as a medical practitioner to treat as many people as I could." Kurokawa stated. She wished she had the supplies and manpower in order to treat everyone here, but she had to stop now or else she'd run low on medical supplies.

"You sound like a Follower." The man said.

"Follower?" She asked and raised her eyebrow.

"Followers of the Apocalypse." He answered.

"Followers of the Apocalypse?" Kurokawa repeated. "Sounds odd. Almost sounds like a doomsday cult." She said honestly.

"I heard they sometimes get that initial reaction." He laughed at her confusion. "They're a bunch of smart people that pursue old world technology and ethics. Mostly medical and agricultural. Trying to help people in need and rediscover old farming tricks as well as any old world medical knowledge."

"Seems like good people." She smiled at the thought of a group dedicating their lives to the pursuit of helping others.

"Well, not all of the members are gems. Especially if Caesar is anything to go by." He joked.

"Caesar?" She asked. "Might I ask who that is?"

"It's weird meeting someone who doesn't know." He laughed. "Then again, makes sense considering where you're from. He was some dictator that took over a bunch of primitive tribes and created a massive army called Caesars Legion. A few years ago we fought a big war with them in the Mojave Wasteland. Nasty stuff, thought for sure I would die."

"Seems odd to me. I visited the Mojave desert while I was on a joint training exercise with the United States. Even got to visit Las Vegas." She smiled at the memory.

"Damn, so it is true. You guys are from the old world. That's crazy to think." He laughed. "I only got to see New Vegas one time during the whole campaign. Got drunk and slept with some prostitutes at the Gomorrah Casino." He laughed and shuttered at the memory. Mostly the resulting hang over.

Kurokawa smiled awkwardly. Did he just brazenly talk about a prostitute that he hired in front of her? Did he have no sense of tact or professionalism? Sure, she can understand men joking around, but it was so rude to say that in front of a woman.

"How long were you there?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Maybe a year?" He thought. "Hard to keep track. I primarily stayed near Camp Forlorn Hope. Mostly in the no man lands between there and Techatticup Mine. Mostly it was nothing but guarding, the occasional scouting mission, and very rarely an assault. Though the Legion was better in the terrain than we were." He said.

"Sounds rough." She said.

"Not really. Hardest part was the second battle of Hoover Dam." He recalled. "While the main effort assaulted the dam, we had to clear the banks of any Legion presence. The fighting wasn't easy, but I made it out alive." He smiled.

Kurokawa felt slightly odd listening to him talk about a combat tour as if it was simple. It reminded her a lot of the US Soldiers she talked with. Most were veterans from Iraq or Afghanistan. It always amazed her how they could talk about such difficult things as if they were talking about a vacation to Europe. They always said they wish they were back "Down Range" as they called it.

"How was fighting the Legion?" She asked out of morbid curiosity.

"Bastards were basically a united group of primitive tribes." He said. "They based themselves off of some old country or something. Italy maybe? I don't know. I never went to school. They liked to crucify their captured enemies and any civilians they didn't like. Used the women as breeding cattle and enslaved young boys into the war machine." Kurokawa felt disgusted hearing that.

"Women as breeding cattle?" She asked.

"The Legion absorbed anyone they conquered. The men were all killed off. Young boys were brainwashed into the Legion and forced to forget their home culture and language. Women and girls were taken as slaves to Legionary fighters or used for breeding. The Legion didn't see women as people. Just slaves to create more soldiers." He recounted. "I've lost a few female soldiers to the Legion. Some were taken east and never heard from again. Caesars Legion was said to have collapsed but who knows what happened to them." He looked down in shame as he remembered that detail.

Kurokawa couldn't believe that. To live in a world as brutal as that. To have your life taken away from you and forced to serve at the whims of some monstrous man who saw you only as a tool to bear children. Who could live in that world?

She was raised very traditionally. Taught how to be very feminine and how to be a good wife. She did always dream of a life being a wife and even some of the traditional roles associated with that life. But that was not traditional. That was slavery, pure and simple. No love. No man to welcome home or children to dress and feed. Just servitude in the worst ways possible.

"I'm so sorry to hear that." She said sincerely, not knowing what to say.

"That's life, right?" He joked.

That's life!? How? Life is getting told you have cancer. Life is getting into an accident and having to deal with insurance. Life is hoping you'll get the job you want in order to support your family. Not... that. How can this man be so calloused and used to a life like that?

She thought back to the Courier. He had this air of loneliness about him. Like nothing bothered him. He wasn't emotionless. He expressed them well enough. But he seemed like he kept much of those emotions locked away and hidden, using jokes to deflect personal questions or trying to avoid conversations all together. It made her sad to think about it.

"Anyway miss, you should get back to your truck. Looks like your ride is getting ready to leave." He said as he pointed at the convoy. There was an NCR jeep that was getting in front of the convoy, likely their escort to Italica or wherever General Howe was at this time.

"Thank you for the stories and letting me help your men." She said and bowed to him in a very traditional Japanese way. She smiled inwardly as he looked at her with confusion.

"Damn, with the way you're acting, you'd think I was the one getting something out of this." He laughed. "Preciate it miss. But you helped my men and I'll be forever grateful to you." He smiled and tipped his helmet at her.

"What's your name?" She asked before getting ready to leave.

"John Hernandez." He said with little flare. "Anyway, you better get going before they leave you behind. Otherwise I'll put you to work again." He joked.

She waved goodbye to Hernandez and ran off to catch up with her convoy. She was glad to have met him, even if the conversation was one she'd rather forget.

Her thoughts drifted back to the Courier and wished she could see him again. At least to hopefully help him open up a bit more and show a bit more of his feeling than he lets on.

Ok... nevermind. going to be a three parter lol.