No Excuses
They were going to start staffing the Ishvalan Relations Field Office in Gunja with a platoon of fifty soldiers under Havoc's command. From there, the plan was to add three more platoons until they had a company of two hundred soldiers. According to Breda's calculations, that would be a sufficient base to provide support for the Calling and for starting the return of the refugees.
Every applicant had to be willing to take a demotion in rank and concomitant cut in pay. They didn't want anyone to see this as an opportunity for advancement. Havoc took a two year set back in his promotion schedule, once again missing his advancement to First Lieutenant, which would have been that summer. Even so, they had many more applicants than they could take for their initial fifty slots.
Miles and Little Brother were visiting Mustang's staff room at East HQ to talk with Havoc and Breda about selecting the military volunteers who would set up the infrastructure in Gunja for the Calling. Since there were only four of them, they were meeting in the small conference room. Since the fall of Bradley, Mustang's team no longer had any particular need to reserve it for secured meetings.
Miles set a cardboard file box on the table. "Here are the first one hundred applications, filed by rank and specialty. And Falman's continuing to get more in every day. We have multiple applicants for everyone on Breda's list of skill requirements. The only short-falls are for engineers and construction alchemists."
"The Brigadier and Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong can fill in for a while for the construction alchemists, but clearly only on an ad hoc basis," said Breda. "Engineering is where we're really hurting."
"I can get Captain Corsair detached here from Briggs for a while. He's in R&D at Briggs," said Miles.
"Engineering is officer level," said Havoc. "Most of our applicants are enlisted. I know a guy from my year in the Academy who's an engineer. Maybe I can talk to him."
Breda nodded. "Okay. So other than meeting one of the skill requirements, what are we looking for in our candidates?"
"They have to be acceptable to both the Amestrian military and the Ishvalan leadership," said Miles.
Havoc was paging through the file box, to get an idea of the applicants. "Lots of people from…" he started to say. "Are all these guys from…?
"Well, this could be interesting. All the applicants I've paged through so far served in Ishval in 1908. In Gunja."
"Yes, I know," said Breda. "Makes sense. The ground soldiers in Gunja were more directly involved in killing non-combatants than the ones who followed Mustang or Kimblee. They feel guilty. We're looking for people willing to take a demotion and cut in pay."
Havoc looked at Little Brother, who had a grim look on his face. "As Breda said, it makes sense," he said. "How far did you get, Havoc?"
"About one-third," he answered.
"It's more like 95%," said Breda, at the same time.
"The headman isn't going to like it," said Little Brother. "A lot of people aren't going to like it. I don't like it."
"Should we change our recruitment strategy? Remove the demotion and the pay cut?" asked Miles.
Havoc's face flushed. "You worked with Mustang," he said, facing Little Brother. "So far, you've been working with me. What makes these guys so different?" He waved at the file box.
"You and Mustang don't make excuses."
"So maybe that would be something to screen for? In an interview?" asked Havoc.
After four days of round two interviews, no one had made it yet. Breda, who was supposed to handle the rejects, had over twenty folders on his desk. Falman was supposed to take care of the paperwork for approved candidates, because in-processing was more paperwork than rejection, and he'd be more efficient. But he didn't have any folders at all.
Fuery was drawing some kind of engineering diagram at his table. It took a lot of concentration, which helped Kain block out the pervasive negative atmosphere. The first round interviews had been okay, but this second round seemed to be a continual round of nervous guys going in to interview, and dejected guys leaving. And Miles and Havoc and Little Brother seemed to be continually on edge.
Sergeant Antoine Lebel entered the small conference room and sat down for his round two interview. His skin was very dark and his black hair was cut very short, showing a hairline with a widow's peak. His mustache was closely trimmed and joined his full beard, and thin closely trimmed sideburns circled around to join his beard as well. Small rectangular glasses sat on his broad nose.
"Sergeant Lebel," Miles said, beginning the interview, "I'm Major Miles, detailed from Briggs as commanding officer of the Ishval Relations Office. This is Little Brother. He lost all his relatives during the Genocide Campaign in Ishval. That is Second Lieutenant Havoc, under my command. He worked clean-up back then. We're here to discuss your military history in Ishval. You served in Ishval from 1906 to 1908, is that correct?"
Antoine sucked in a breath. They were going to talk about that with an Ishvalan warrior in the room? "Yes, sir," he answered.
"Tell me about your war crimes from the Genocide Campaign, sergeant."
Antoine gulped. That was fast. "I followed orders," he said, stalling.
"Did those orders include killing non-combatants, or prisoners, or medical experiments on prisoners?"
"Y-yes, sir," he said, eyeing the Ishvalan nervously. "I mean, not all of those."
"Continue, sergeant," Miles prompted, calmly.
Antoine froze. How much did they want to hear?
Miles waited for a long minute, but when the sergeant still didn't speak he sighed and asked, "Do you wish to withdraw your application from consideration?" It looked like yet another reject.
"No!" Antoine answered, immediately. "I have a wife, sir. She told me if I don't get this posting, not to bother coming back."
Havoc smiled, almost imperceptibly, but Lebel saw it.
Antoine looked down and took a deep breath. Then he looked up. "Non-combatants, yes, that's right. We didn't take any prisoners, so no, I didn't get anyone for the medical experiments. But like I said, we didn't take prisoners at all, so I killed the combatants when they were down. I… might have..." He paused, thinking. "Yes, there probably was a time or two when some men tried to surrender and I shot those. So maybe that counts as killing prisoners?"
"Go on," said Miles. "The non-combatants?"
"You were there, second lieutenant," Lebel said. "You know..." he trailed off.
"Yes, I do," Havoc answered. "Go on."
"They were mostly women… and children." Antoine glanced at Havoc. Not good enough, he could tell from his eyes.
He took another deep breath. "I killed mostly women and children. And some old people, but there weren't very many of those. A typical group might be one or two women, three or four… children, and maybe an old woman, or sometimes an old man. I shot the women and the old people and the… children, except for the… smallest ones. I couldn't… Probably the youngest ones I shot looked like they were three or four."
Antoine glanced at Havoc again and laughed nervously. "Yes, I know. Go on."
"The smallest ones I couldn't shoot. I just... left them. Without the others, they weren't going to make it anyway. So that counts as... killing them, I guess.
"So, then, uh… you probably want to know how many? Most days, there would be at least one typical group. Some days, up to maybe three? I'm just talking about the non-combatants, here.
"I'm not sure how much more... detailed I can get."
"Good enough," said Little Brother, and Antoine looked over at him. The Ishvalan looked angry but controlled. So not as bad as it could have been.
"But I should say 'murdered', not killed," he said, looking at the Ishvalan. "I killed the warriors, but I… murdered the women and children and old people."
"Yes," said Little Brother. It was the first time he'd heard a candidate volunteer that without prompting, but it wouldn't be the last. "That would be the correct word."
Breda and Falman both turned toward the door when the sergeant came out with his folder.
"Second Lieutenant Falman?" Antoine asked, looking around.
"Over here," Falman said with a smile, waving. Finally!
Antoine handed the Second Lieutenant his folder and pulled up a chair. Falman checked the sheet at the front of the folder to verify they finally had an approval. "Welcome aboard, Sergeant Lebel," he said, putting a form in his typewriter, and starting to type.
Fuery was the first one to come over. "Hi," he said, smiling. "Can I get you coffee or anything?"
"Well, I like coffee, master sergeant, but..."
"Sure thing," Fuery said, leaving the staff room.
While Lebel was looking on uncomprehendingly as a master sergeant seemed to be off getting coffee for a sergeant, the guy with the stack of folders piled high on his cluttered table came over.
"Heymans Breda," he said, and then when Lebel made to rise, said, "No, no, don't get up. Welcome to the Ishval Relations Office. You'll report to Havoc, but Major Miles and I are the rest of the team so far. Little Brother is –"
"First Lieutenant, would you mind if I take care of this first?" Falman interrupted, mildly annoyed.
Breda chuckled. "Talk to you later," he said and wandered back to his own table.
"Do you guys know what that interview was about, sir?" asked Antoine. He was having trouble squaring his awful confession with all this friendliness.
"Yes, sergeant, of course," answered Falman, putting a second form into the typewriter. He handed Lebel a sheet from his folder and asked, "Could you read what they wrote for block 51 in the Candidate Interview form for me?"
Lebel read off block 51 while the second lieutenant typed. Then Falman answered, "War crimes."
"But I was guilty –" he started.
"Of course you were," Falman interrupted. "Now if you could sign here… and here… and initial there. I'll take this to Admin now, so you can get your assignment information."
Falman added the papers to Lebel's folder, then turned to face him again. "Sergeant Lebel, we have three Ishval vets from '08 in this office. And you'll be working with the Ishvalan survivors. We know what happened."
"Are you part Ishvalan, sir?"
"No," Falman said, smiling, as he stood up. "But I am often asked that in this office. In the other places I have worked, people assume I'm prematurely gray or old. Here, they wonder if I have Ishvalan blood." And he left the room with the folder.
Author's note:
Antoine is listed as one of Hugh's subordinates in Ishval in Volume 15, Chapter 60, but his appearance is not based on any image in the manga.
His last name, Lebel, is based on the Lebel 8mm bolt-action rifle used by the French from 1887 to 1936, which was the standard French infantry rifle of World War 1.