Kaladin
"Charge! We've got them now!" bellowed Battalionlord Ralashin from his horse.
"Squad One and Two, follow me!" shouted Lieutenant Tam. They charged into the weakening group of Parshendi, pressing their advantage. A few squads from other platoons were doing the same.
Kaladin, as second-in-command of Platoon Fifteen, now had field command of the remaining three squads. Tam's group advanced, doing well until suddenly a new surge of Parshendi slammed into their flank. Kaladin saw a few men go down, Tam included, his green officer's uniform easily recognizable amid the brown garb of the enlisted soldiers.
Kaladin could hear Sargeant Orr from Squad Two barking out orders in his strange nasal, high pitched voice. The men did their best to get into formation, but the Parshendi seemed intent on scattering them and picking them off a few at a time.
"Three and Four, wedge formation!" Kaladin bellowed over the din of the battle.
They lined up immediately. In the largely undisciplined Sadeas army, Kaladin was fortunate to serve under Tam, who held his men to a higher standard. Well, not fortunate, so much as ended up here after personality clashes with his first three platoon leaders. Regardless, right now, Tam and Kaladin's combined insistence on discipline was paying off.
Captain Mavarien, now commander of Kaladin's company, shouted from a distance, "Hold the line. Don't advance."
Pretending he didn't hear, Kaladin told the leader of the adjacent platoon to spread his forces out to support Kaladin's remaining squad on their section of the line, then led his two squads into the fray. Syl, the windspren only he could see, who talked to him sometimes - did that make him crazy?- flitted around his spear as they pushed through the Parshendi to the stranded men. They created a corridor and begun ferrying the wounded back behind the lines.
A man from Sergeant Orr's squad found Lieutenant Tam, unconscious and spurting blood from a wound in his left leg. Kaladin wrapped a bandage above the injury, then tightened it until he cut off all blood flow. If Tam survived, he would lose his leg, but that was better than certain death from a damaged artery on the battlefield.
When it was clear their corridor was holding, Kaladin led a subsquad to rescue smaller pockets of men. Most were darkeyed spearmen but a few lighteyes had lost their horses and been separated from their units. Kaladin was at a loss as to why they had traveled so far down the battlefield.
Once the rescue operation had been completed, they all retreated back to the main line. Kaladin's men continued to fight the Parshendi while he and a few others with medical experience worked on the men who had not yet been run to the medics.
While Kaladin was bandaging a dangerous gut wound, a tall shadow blocked the sunlight. Kaladin finished what he was doing, then looked up. It was Captain Mavarien on his horse.
Kaladin stood up. "Orders sir?" he asked.
"Lieutenant, whose time is more valuable? Mine or yours?" came the snide reply from Mavarien.
Kaladin knew better than to make a smart remark about the wounded man's life being worth more than Mavarien's time. Antagonizing his commanding officer was a dangerous thing to do in the middle of a battle, when Kaladin had so many men to protect. "Yours, sir," Kaladin said.
"Then next time, don't make me wait. Your orders are to hold the line. That last assault left us spread thin. The cavalry has almost reached the chrysalis. No need for more heroics."
"Understood."
"And we will discuss your insubordination when we return to camp."
"Insubordination? What do you mean, sir?" Kaladin asked. Playing dumb was the only thing Kaladin had learned from the second platoon leader he'd served under, but it was a useful trick every now and again.
"You disobeyed direct orders to hold the line."
"Oh?" asked Kaladin, "You said to hold the line? I could have sworn you said, 'Go get them.' My mistake."
Mavarien huffed in annoyance and ordered, "Be prepared to retreat on my signal."
"Yes, sir."
"And Stormblessed," said Mavarien, not bothering to hide his contempt, "If we need to go quickly, leave the worst of the wounded. We can't afford to stay a minute more than necessary."
Kaladin replied, "Noted, sir." Yes, Kaladin noted that Mavarian cared less for the men under his command than he did for the bonus all the commanders received if they 'won' the battle.
A win as defined by Sadeas was a successful gemheart extraction, regardless of how many men died to achieve it. Meanwhile, some of the common soldiers, whose victory bonus was relatively small, placed bets among their friends over who would kill the most Parshendi. Kaladin defined victory differently. He counted his men who survived.
Usually, the runners took care of all the wounded in Kaladin's charge. He had continued his old practice of bribing them and the medics to give his men priority. Though Kaladin's pay as a Lieutenant stretched further than a squadleader's, he now had roughly a hundred men to care for. Tam approved of what Kaladin did, but only contributed on occasion.
With battles fought so far afield, Kaladin couldn't afford to trust the medics all the time. About six months ago, during a particularly hasty retreat, they'd had to carry their wounded back themselves. One man, Ellit had been his name, bled to death in the process. Had he been carried on a stretcher, Kaladin thought, the bandages might have held and Ellit would have had a chance at survival.
So Kaladin figured out a way to make stretchers on the battlefield. Two men per squad carried a bag full of rope and special fabric covers Kaladin had paid a tailor to make. They'd drilled and drilled and now it was time to put them to the test. The men worked quickly, gathering fallen spears from the battlefield and binding them together, three or four per bundle, and wrapping the sharp tips in cloth. They were not easy to carry, but they were better than the alternative.
Kaladin also assigned a man to watch the fighting around the chrysalis. The delay between the extraction of the gemheart and the call for retreat allowed them to get the men loaded onto the stretchers in time to leave. They loaded up the ten worst wounded in the vicinity on the stretchers. Others were able to walk or be carried, thanks to Kaladin's triage team. But down the field, Kaladin could see men crawling after the retreating army. Their screams, cut short by the Parshendi, would be sure to feature prominently in Kaladin's dreams.
So many wounded. And at least seven dead. Yon. One-Eyed Lanacin. Tipper, who had finally started cleaning his spear properly. With so many wounded, carrying back their bodies was unthinkable. And many of the wounded taken by the runners looked pretty bad. Kaladin was sure he'd return to camp to the news that some of them had died too.
This battle was the worst of Kaladin's career. Battalionlord Ralashin was only in command because of his near supernatural ability to kiss Sadeas' ass. But on the battlefield, his incompetence was clear. Today he got carried away in the momentum of their advance and ordered a charge with no tactical significance, then got his men caught in a trap. Meanwhile Mavarien exhibited once again that the soldiers under his command were nothing more than a means to an end. Both men's actions had consequences they were sure to ignore, and Kaladin hated them for it.
Kaladin paced outside the medical buildings back at Sadeas' warcamp. Most of his men were resting back at camp or in the recovery wards, which were currently deemed too full to accept visitors. Two of his men were still in surgery.
Life in the army was brief periods of action followed by a lot of waiting around. As long as Kaladin ignored larger objectives of the battles, and just focused on keeping his men safe, he felt alive while he was fighting. The waiting around, though, with its chances to dissect every move he made, recall every man he failed to save, that was torture. When he couldn't cope with that anymore, his brain switched to deep-seeded apathy and it became a fight to so much as get out of bed in the morning. He could feel himself sinking ever closer to that pit of despair. Syl did her best to cheer him up, but she was no Tien. And they had lost so many men today. So he grasped at any emotion he could hold onto. The easiest was hate.
Lieutenant... something that started with a V, Kaldin couldn't remember but he lead Platoon Twelve, strolled by with a well-dressed woman on his arm. He was out of uniform, wearing a ridiculous yellow jacket. Kaladin couldn't understand how the other officer could act like he hadn't spent the morning running to a battle and midday watching his men die. Lighteyes!
One of the things Kaladin hated the most about the army was that the darkeyed spear corps were a mix of lighteyed and darkeyed platoon leaders. Leading a platoon was the pinnacle of achievement for a darkeyed soldier, an honor reserved for the best of the best, an incentive for the spearmen to distinguish themselves. Kaladin was the youngest darkeyed officer in Sadeas' army by a good ten years. Lieutenant Tam had served for fifteen years before his promotion. Meanwhile, high ranking lighteyes as young as seventeen were given a chance to 'practice' command by leading a platoon. Like anyone inexperienced, they made mistakes at every turn. But they tended to shrug them off, after all, the men they got killed were 'only darkeyes.'
What's-his-name made a snide comment about the state of Kaladin's uniform and the woman laughed. Kaladin glared at him in response and resumed his pacing. Kaladin had not yet changed out of his battle uniform, which was still covered in dried blood. It had once been a patchwork of red from the men he'd tried to save and orange from the Parshendi he'd tried to kill. Now it was all brown. He'd wash and change soon. But not yet. He couldn't relax until he heard if Nar survived and if they could save Derid's hand. The boy was a potter's apprentice before he got drafted and now he was in danger of losing several fingers. And his hair stuck up in the back like Tien's used to, and -
"Lieutenant Kaladin, please report to Captain Mavarien's office."
He thanked the messenger and followed his instructions.
The command building was built as sturdy as the soulcast bunkers, but with a little more architectural flair. Flags hung on the outer walls, each with a different glyphpair, one for each officer of captain's rank or higher in the camp. At the top was the tower and hammer of Highprince Sadeas.
Kaladin made his way to Mavarien's office and discovered four other people waiting to talk to the Captain as well. He supposed this was a way for Mavarien to underscore his point that his time was more valuable than Kaladin's. Kaladin didn't regret a thing.
"Early reports indicate," Mavarien intoned, when it was finally Kaladin's turn, "that your platoon has experienced catastrophic losses. Not to mention, Lieutenant Tam's amputation has left him unfit for combat."
"Yes, sir," said Kaladin, his voice dripping with contempt. Rage at Mavarien was better than emptiness.
"As such, your platoon will be disbanded and split up among the other platoons in my command. We're still working on new duty assignments, but I'll have a scribe get that to you in a day or two."
"But-"
"I don't have time for your arguments. I have an appointment with my tailor after this."
Syl stuck out her tongue at Mavarien, which cheered Kaladin up a bit.
Mavarien continued, "Between the wounded and the dead, your platoon took almost thirty percent losses, which we both know will be terrible for morale. Believe it or not, disbanding your men is a kindness. As for you, one of the lighteyed infantry you rescued was Battalionlord Ralashin's youngest son. As a token of his gratitude, you will be granted command of Platoon Fifteen and a promotion to First Lieutenant."
"Wait," said Kaladin, "Didn't you just say my platoon was to be disbanded?"
"Yes, you idiot." Well, Mavarien didn't say 'you idiot,' but it was implied. "Platoon Fifteen is to be converted into a training unit, and you will be given command of the new recruits set to arrive next week."
"Yes, sir."
"You will not enter another battle until I deem your troops ready. Besides, it is clear that you're experiencing some hearing loss, so hopefully some time off the field will be a chance for your ears to recover."
"Yes, sir." So this was to be his punishment for his earlier insubordination. Or, if not a punishment, a way for Mavarien to keep Kaladin out of his hair for awhile. Kaladin had inadvertently landed himself on the Battalionlord's good side, so this appeared to be the worst Mavarien could do.
"Dismissed."
Kaladin saluted and returned to the medical buildings.
Author's Note: I'm also on AO3 as engineerwenlock. I usually post there first, to be honest, though I haven't transferred some of my older stories over there.