General Iroh
I sat down, for the first time all of today.
In my earlier years, there never would have been a problem with such a thing, but now, I could feel my body begin to catch up to me, feel the way my bones creaked as I sat, the way my muscles stretched before finally spreading out again upon the relief felt of putting them to rest. I was grateful that no one at this very moment could see me breath such a sigh of relief to finally be seated.
The day…it had been a long one. From an early morning spent organizing the division's commanders to overseeing the overtaking and fall of the wall, not a minute had been spent in silence. I had watched as our lines had organized, as our tanks had stormed the wall, and as their walls had fallen, all while struggling to keep the beating of my heart at bay, to silence it so that I might stay conscious to watch the fateful moment.
It'd been one that I had known would always come, and so it had, but not without its toll having been taken, not without a fight. But one way or another, it was a day that had finally come, later, perhaps, than I had initially thought it would, but as I watched that line of fire spread across that wall soon hidden in a cloud of smoke, I knew that it came–a moment that would live in the hearts of all men who had seen it, and a memory that would guide those who had lost their lives today to whatever lay beyond, cemented in history, heroes, all of them.
The day that Ba Sing Se's wall fell, a grand moment for every man here, for the Fire Nation, for me.
Even in my tent now, I could smell the victory, the floating dust and debris left from the collapse of a wall that stood testament to thousands of years of this nation's history.
Do you understand now, father? I wanted to ask him, wishing he could have been here to see what we'd done. What I had done. He had doubted the whole notion of it. For over ninety years, this war had been thought, and for all ninety years, the prospect of attacking Ba Sing Se, much less taking it, had been unquestionable.
But neither my father nor Sozin before him had seen what I had seen.
The sky lit ablaze by fire. The walls of Ba Sing Se brought to the ground. Me standing before the Great Palace of the city. It had been the destiny of Sozin to begin this war. It had been the destiny of his son, Azulon, my father, to carry on this legacy and see it through, but it was my destiny to end it, and so here I was, another step towards this vision.
History would know of today, would know of every man and woman who had lost their lives to see it through, and so it would be sung of for centuries to come.
But first, home must hear of what had been accomplished.
I had been putting it off, admittedly too self-absorbed in my successes to actually commit the deed to writing, but I would now fix that.
I furled the maps on my table and pushed them aside, instead opting for a fresh scroll of parchment that remained untouched.
I retrieved my dry quill where it sat next to the scroll, and dipped its point into the ink well beside. I considered just how to begin the message, wondering to whom to address it, be it my father, the nation as a whole, but I settled on something simpler.
"To my family,"
I took a deep breath, and pondered just how to begin such an announcement.
"It is my joy to tell you, before the criers may beat me to such an announcement, that this day, Fire Nation forces under my command have successfully penetrated the outer wall of Ba Sing Se."
After over a year of fighting, I thought to myself, my mind tracing over those who had been lost in pursuit of such an aim, lining up into the thousands, dead, wounded, their lives and those of their loved ones forever changed one way or another. And for us, no different, the honor of this victory to be carried with us for all our lives, be that tens of years, or perhaps just a few more days as there still was a battle to be won, Ba Sing Se still standing.
For now.
And what a city it must be, I thought, my mind tracing over what a beauty and marvel of engineering its walls had been. I could only begin to imagine what awaited us beyond. I could write for hours if needed on what my expectations were, my plans for victory, all of it, but brevity was key, and so I continued.
"If the city is as magnificent as its wall, Ba Sing Se must be something to behold."
And already, said walls had been reduced to charred remains, at least where I sat, rubble beneath my feet. It would be naive of me to believe that once we were through with it, Ba Sing Se might even resemble something identifiable as a shadow of its former self. Such was war, however, and if this city fell, then so be it. It would be a needed price for a victory to end these near hundred years of bloodshed. And already, my armies had come so far as to tear down its wall. There was no doubt in my mind that all from this point on would only cement in history our courage, our valor, and our victory.
And so I wrote my next line with a lightened heart, even allowing myself to chuckle upon its completion.
"I hope you all may see it some day, if we don't burn it to the ground first."
I imagined that my nephew and niece, at the very least, may find enough in there to get a good laugh themselves. I imagine they would need it. Zuko was always in good enough spirits when I saw him, my mind tracing back to Ember Island and our many times there for a split second before I pulled myself back to the present. Back to the reality that he was alone with my brother now, a frankly humorless man who'd adopted our father's stoicism. Spirits knew the children could use a good laugh, and something to lighten the weight put upon their shoulders.
My eyes found the small silver blade by my side, the glint of peart reflecting the light of Ba Sing Se's still burning wall.
"Until then, enjoy these gifts."
The blade wasn't mine. At least, as of a few hours ago, it hadn't been. I could still see the sight as clear as day–the smoke of the wall ahead of me, flanked by a dozen of my best guardsmen, and further behind, an army of infantry and cavalry ready to charge.
I still remembered those first silhouettes from the other side, emerging like corpses from the mythicized well of lost souls, looking no different too, horror, defeat, confusion spread across their faces. I remembered the face of a once-strong man as he stood at the head of the formation, his eyes refusing to meet mine until I had stepped forward and placed myself a mere foot in front of him.
Then, he had looked up at me, his next actions those that would determine what would come of him, as well as of the hundreds of men who stood behind him. I anticipated no trickery, no deception, no violation of honor. Not from this man at least. I knew defeat when I saw it, had faced it myself more times than I cared to admit, but I confess that even I breathed a breath of fresh air when his eyes had looked up at mine, and he had knelt, placing his knees in the ashes of the wall that he had sworn to defend no matter the cost.
From his belt, he pulled a dagger, and presented it to be, silver blade resting on the palm of one hand, and the pearl hilt in the other. The message was clear. He had surrendered.
"For Zuko," I wrote, "a pearl dagger from the general who surrendered when we broke through the outer wall. Note the inscription and the superior craftsmanship."
Never give up without a fight.
And that the Earth Kingdom had done. None could deny them that honor–that of having fought to the last man, to the point that the options presented to them had been surrender or death. Not a soul could blame their general, Roneng, for having chosen the lives of his men above the importance of his own honor.
It was a thought I would never bring myself to say out loud, especially as 4 generals yet stood, and we still had a war to win. However, if my nephew could grow with even a fraction of the honor of the man whose dagger was now his, he would be double the man his father ever was.
I did not hate my brother. Far from it, I loved him. He was my blood, but I did not allow this fact to blind me to the man that he was–ambitious, arrogant, cruel. He would sooner view his own children as tools for his progression and ascent than his own blood. I did not doubt that a part of him, deep down, did love them, but he was second-born. The world had been promised to me, and to my brother, only that which he fought and bled for, however necessary. At times, I blamed myself. At times, I wondered how we might have turned out had I been born second and my brother first. How would he look upon his children? As inheritors to all which he built for them, as those who would be theirs the birthright to sit under the shade of a tree whose sapling he had planted, or would all have remained the same?
They were questions that occupied my mind aplenty, and were prone to leave me wondering for however many hours it took me to arrive at the same conclusion as always–that the past was the past, and I could not change what was, merely try to make the most of what is.
I looked upon the second gift on the table, wondering if it might hope to set things in the right direction. I continued writing.
"And for Azula, a new friend. She wears the latest fashion for Earth Kingdom girls."
A small trinket, one bought from a passing merchant who'd been en route to Ba Sing Se, intercepted by my forces and decided his luck would be just as good selling his wares amongst us as in the city proper.
He hadn't been wrong.
When last I'd seen Azula, she had been approaching her eighth name-day. She would be nine years old now, but even at her age, I would not be surprised if she would have taken more pleasure in a doll, burnt and mutilated that I had recovered personally from the charred remains of an earthbender's home. She took a keen interest in the military heritage of the Fire Nation, knowing more than well enough of the glory that was to be won on the battlefield, more than I could say even my nephew did, a boy who struggled to see the joy in merit in the deaths of so many.
Someday soon, I was sure, my brother would push Azula to win glory for herself, and him by extension, on the battlefield. Someday soon, were this war not to be won by then. My brother did not have the same military heritage as I, nor my father, nor his before him. Such left him in a weakened position, one, I knew, he wished to amend, if not through his own deeds, then those of his children. He would groom them to be soldiers, to be killers, to be avatars of his will.
I needed to end this war. I needed to win here, at Ba Sing Se. Maybe then could my nephew and niece be raised into a world not tainted by war, not as soldiers in their childhood years, but as what they were–children. Maybe then, my own son could sit atop a throne as a man who did not command armies and fleets, but as one who unified, who built bridges, who brought about a new world.
I closed my eyes and sighed. I sealed the letter and the gifts. They would be delivered by month's end, more likely than not, and so the Fire Nation would celebrate the news, months later than had been hoped for, but better late than never.
My meditation would be broken by the arrival of my own son through the flaps of my tent, his armor and helmet still bearing the marks of battle–dirt, soot, and blood. A battle yet still to be won, but for the day finally, was over.
"Our forward battalions have taken their positions," he said, making clear then that our foothold on the other side of the wall had begun to take root. Now, we would fight to hold it. The night would be one of artillery and flares, and the early establishment of no man's land. With the sun's rise come morning, so too would battle begin again, and we would fight to ensure that this victory today had not been in vain. Another wall yet awaited us, and so now would we begin our fight towards it, one mile, one yard, one foot at a time if need be.
"Good," I said, standing. "Then let us begin.
Danev
The sun was beginning to set, the day was nearly done, our forces were victorious. The Fire Nation's red banner flew atop the outer wall of Ba Sing Se. But those miracles were the least of them all.
We were alive.
We had crawled into the dark wall of Ba Sing Se, the metaphorical belly of the beast, and we had brought it to its knees.
And hadn't lost a single man in doing so.
The dust had yet to settle.
I stood on the precipice of where the wall ended, not by design, but by the efforts of twenty thousand men today, sitting below me a pile of rubble that red and black clad soldiers still trampled over by the hundreds as they made their way beyond, into Ba Sing Se's outer ring.
Looking across the gap, I could make out the honeycomb pattern of tunnels that we had spent the early day carving into the wall's innards, finding our way to this point so that we could line every square yard with explosives enough to…well, enough to bring down Ba Sing Se's wall.
I chuckled to myself, still scarce believing the sight before my eyes, my reaction no different from that of the other men who had come here with me. Not one of them was any less amazed than I was.
"No fucking way this is actually real," Chejuh was muttering to himself. "Shozi; tell me what I'm seeing is real."
"It's real," Chejuh confirmed. "Brought their wall to the ground. What those fuckers deserve. Wouldn't you say, sir?"
He was talking to me. That, however, wasn't my call to make. Who could say what the Earth Kingdom and its people deserved. My focus was on my men, and the understanding of who they were, that they were good men and women all of them, trustworthy, good people, under my care, and deserving life, victory, and all that came with it.
I would not answer Chejuh's initial question as it wasn't necessary. Instead I said, "Dragon! Grab your things and move out the way we came to rendezvous with the other platoons. We're returning to camp!"
We set out, away from Ba Sing Se's great wall, though only for the time being we knew. We walked opposite of the siege's many battalions who now embarked to establish their foothold north of the wall. We would be joining them soon, likely enough, and such would mean leaving behind the world that we had built for ourselves over the last half year–our Citadel–Taisho, more a home to us than its original namesake.
This had been a home that we'd fought for, that we'd won, that'd protected us from artillery, Earth Kingdom raid, and incompetent leadership alike. It's labyrinth walls wound like the streets we'd all grown up in, the carved hovels offering the same warmth and comfort as the Hive ever did.
As such, the men of the 114th, Taisho kids all of them, enjoyed their victory, and quite possibly too, one of the last days they would spend back 'home.'
I hung around Dragon platoon, quite naturally, knowing that the other lieutenants would want to be with their respective platoons tonight, and I ought to do the same with mine. As such, I was witness to the revelry that infected the camp that night deep within the Liángshí barracks.
Chejuh and Shozi had popped open a casket of wine that'd been gifted to them by soldiers of the 17th back during the Battle of the Outlier. They put it to good use now, I saw. They sure as hell did put it to good use now, betting on who could outdrink the other while a few other men of the platoon including even the replacement Tisai got in on the action, betting in Shozi's direction. Bad choice, I thought to myself, already knowing from experience and prior such competitions that the odds lay heavily in Chejuh's favor.
Mano, meanwhile, had leaned his chair back against the wall, neglecting the game of cards that he'd been initially called to in a bid instead to catch some early shuteye even before the sun was to fully set. I could hardly blame him, however. After all, he'd spent a near six hours straight of the early day, without break, carving a honeycomb of tunnels into the enemy city's walls. He'd earned his rest, even if that meant that each of his opponents had taken their sweet time to sneak more than a glance at his hand.
Off on his bunk, the one that, before him, had been Mykezia's, was Asaih, plucking at the strings of a small pipa that he'd apparently been allowed to bring with him back from home, a shock to us all, but hardly a grievance as none of us exactly had much in the way of personal belongings to bring with us to the front back from Taisho in the first place.
The clarity of Asaih's lyrics were lost amidst the clamor of the barracks, but the beat was unmistakably a somber one, the boy not altogether bad at playing it seemed. He went on like this for a while, only observable to us that he was actually singing quietly to himself when the rest of the room had grown temporarily quiet enough.
Asaih noticed this growing quiet too, but only too late, his voice trailing off into a whisper and then silence once he realized we were listening.
None could deny that Asaih hadn't had it particularly easy in his easy days with the 114th, no doubt remembering the hard time we, myself included, had all given him simply by merit of the fact that he was a stand-in, a replacement for those we knew and loved. Asaih had come some way in finding a real place within the company since, but still, everything about the way he froze now indicated a belief he still was on thin ice.
And perhaps he was.
But that wouldn't be the treatment he would soon get.
"Whatchu singin', Asaih?" Murao asked, looking up from a game of Pai Sho that he was in the midst of playing once again with Aosore.
Asaih looked up, cautious, as though fearing he was walking into a trap, though answered anyway. "The Ballad of Yuzao Sho. It's…a colonial song.
"Well don't be shy," Shozi chuckled, already tipsy and nearing his way towards drunk. "Sing for us."
Asaih's eyes searched around the barracks, as though on the lookout to resistance. Instead, he would only be met with a crowd of expecting eyes and ears, waiting for him to begin. The pressure was on him, and I scarce would have blamed him for simply coming up with some excuse to leave the barracks.
Rather, he looked back down at his pipa, and began to play.
Hear you now this tale of woe
Of Brave young Yuzao Sho
Whose parents died of sickness
When she was not but ten
So off young Yuzao went to live
With her wicked uncle
Who one night stole her maidenhead
So into the North she fled
Oh Yuzao Sho you'll never escape
As the Spirits have written
And life must seem the cruelest jape
Oh brave young Yuzao Sho
North she fled to don our Red
Her troubles yet ahead
She cut her hair and changed her name
To Yuzao Sho the brave
At Yu Dao, she took the oath
Thought a boy by all
And she hoped to live forever
As a soldier to exalt
Asaih continued playing as all in the barracks listened, none daring to speak or so much as clear their throat lest they interrupt the sad melody. I perhaps could have sat their for hours, just listening to him play had I not felt a hand on my shoulder, turning me around to face the visage of Captain Rulaan.
Entrapped as I was by Asaih's tune, I completely neglected to salute my superior. Rulaan, of course, was hardly one to mind such a thing and so it went uncontested, him not seemingly there for my respect as much just to give me a look that indicated I was needed elsewhere but in my barracks.
My departure went completely unnoticed, I imagined, the attention of all placed entirely on Asaih as he yet played.
The sound dimmed as we stepped into the late evening, the sky a deepening orange that set off into blue the further one looked east. It still remained bright enough though that I could see on Rulaan's face that he had something to tell me, and nothing good at that.
"There a problem, captain?" I asked.
Though the expression in his eyes didn't change, he at least did don a smile as he said, "When is there not?"
I smiled in return.
"But that can wait," Rulaan continued with, eyes softening now too. "Come on; let's walk.
We were away from the tale of Yuzao Sho soon enough, its verses however still ringing in my ears even as the biting cold late Winter wind howled into them.
"I guess I don't need to tell you that your mission in Ba Sing Se's outer wall was a success," Rulaan began.
I chuckled at that. "I hadn't noticed."
He chuckled too, though not with quite the same enthusiasm. It was tempered. It didn't take a genius to know that the fact that he hadn't been part of our operation within the walls weighed heavily on Rulaan. He'd understood the reasoning behind it, as had we all, that the Fire Nation was already taking a substantial enough risk throwing a little over two hundred into the middle of the Earth Kingdom's most well-fortified position on the planet. They didn't need to add a seasoned officer to the list of potential casualties. All the same, Rulaan liked no part of calling on his men to put themselves on the line without there being any risk to himself. He wasn't that kind of commander, and we all loved him for it, but I knew that so far as Rulaan wasn't out there with us, he would never be satisfied with his work.
"No casualties too," he added, "thank the spirits."
"Thank a lot of things. Our artillery covered our approach, and the battle outside had the Earth Kingdom too focused to even notice us."
"And the battle goes on still."
That it did. We'd known ahead of time that the Earth Kingdom wouldn't surrender the wall easily, even once our banner stood atop it. They would fight only until the wall would no longer be visible past the dust and smoke. The way Rulaan had made that last comment, however, I couldn't help but believe it had something to do with why we were talking.
"I take it we're needed then."
Rulaan wouldn't answer that, not yet, not until he had broken all of the reasons down to me in the kindest way possible. I let him. I owed him that much at least, to do this all in the way that was easiest for him.
"119th Command called me in. The Earth Kingdom's pulled back from the wall, but…well, they'd already had backup lines established in case of the worst."
"So they've pulled back to this auxiliary line?"
"Not quite. It seems their command doesn't want to let us dig in just yet by giving us breathing room. Soldiers retreating from the wall have been observed digging foxholes between the wall and this trench line, also setting up their artillery here. They've been hammering our boys at the wall all afternoon and we've been hitting them back."
"Meanwhile they're reorganizing and reinforcing their troops for a counterattack," I said, realizing what was being implied. "We could still lose the wall."
Rulaan nodded. "We need to move before they can do that. The order is for all brigades to call up their reserves from the attack on the wall, and deploy them tomorrow morning. Look, I know the 114th wasn't in reserve, but-"
"But we're still at full strength," I finished for him. We were. Zero casualties, no wounded, no diminished supplies. From every metric short of emotionally, having already begun to celebrate too early it seemed, we were ready to fight.
Again, Rulaan nodded. "You know I hate asking this of you, especially after what you've already done, but the 114th will be taking position at the wall tonight. We'll be behind the wall and, as such, out of range of artillery while we'll be blasting them with hundreds of feet of advantage.
That was a plus at least. "So we get to sleep like babes while we batter them all throughout the night," I added. "So when morning comes,..."
"We give them a rude awakening."
I sighed. I could hardly say I was disappointed. I suppose I was, at the very least in that the Earth Kingdom hadn't retreated nearly as much as we'd have liked them too, but only a fool would have believed that the war would be over just because we'd taken down a single one of their walls.
And one last time, Rulaan nodded.
I looked back at him. "You already tell the the other platoons?" I hoped he had. I would much prefer for Rulaan that he'd gotten them already out of the way, hardly imagining that many of them would take the news well, Cheno of Bat platoon in particular, as well as I imagined Laohan, who to say had short fuses would be an understatement.
Now, Rulaan shook his head. "Nope. Figured it'd be easiest to start with you. Figure I should get to work then."
"Need any help?" I offered.
"No. You break the news to those under your command, and I'll do the same with mine. Meet you at the wall?"
I raised my hand to my forehead and saluted the man. "See you there, Captain."
With that, he saluted me back, and turned, headed now towards Elephant platoon, beginning with Laohan it seemed.
Godspeed, I thought as I turned back towards my own men in Dragon.
They would end up taking the news better than expected, the worse reactions coming from those who'd opted for an early night and now had to shuffle out of bed. That wasn't to say the men were particularly eager for a fight, in the midst of partial celebration as they had been, but there was an understanding between them all that such was what they were, what we all were–soldiers.
Maybe it wasn't what we'd all envisioned, most of us hardly looking beyond the joy in knowing we would be leaving Citadel, but we were here now. We'd sworn our oaths, taken the red like brave Yuzao Sho, and who could say what would happen next, only that we had our jobs, and we would see them through to the end.
And so, we marched to the wall, to where we would spend the next before an early morning of war upon the morrow. We approach that black behemoth of a wall, its ceiling lit by a thousand torches that shone on the red of our banners, cranes lifting artillery pieces, fortifications, and equipment by the tonnes.
And as we drew ever closer, the lot of us, even Mano who did so under his breath, still the shy bear I'd always known him as, sang the song that we had all by now committed to our minds and to our hearts.
Oh Yuzao Sho you'll never escape
As the Spirits have written
And life must seem the cruelest jape
Oh brave young Yuzao Sho
Now Yuzao was so diligent
To keep from watchful stares
But one night as she bathed
Her brothers saw her body bare
These men were quick to break their vows
As they threw her to the ground
They took her honor then her life
While Yuzaou made not a sound
Oh Yuzao Sho there's no escape
As the Spirits have written
And life must seem the cruelest jape
Oh brave young Yuzao Sho
It is said that young Yuzao still yet walks
The field where she was slain
A pale form singing sorrowfully
This lonely, sad refrain
Aegis
Even on the other side of the wall, I could feel Shanzi shake beneath my feet with every impact of Earth Kingdom artillery, even this late into the night, refusing to let up. From the moment that their wall had fallen and they'd consolidated their forces well enough, they'd gone from defending the wall to seemingly try to bring it down themselves if the degree to which they were bombarding it with hellfire was any indication.
But even as the ground shook beneath our feet, and dust from the top of the wall rained down upon us, I found myself more relaxed than ever I did a night in Citadel, my back to a corner, wrist tied around a rope tripwire that would yank me awake if anybody entered the alley I was holed up in, always asleep with one hand on a ceramic shiv and another planted firmly on the ground to push myself up if I needed to make a quick escape. Compared to all of that, I was rather happy with my predicament now, hidden safely behind the Earth Kingdom's wall alongside an entire army of boys just like me.
There was something funny about it to me. For roughly a year now, there had been no greater blight on the Fire Nation than this wall, the one thing separating the Earth Kingdom from us, keeping them safe from a host of twenty thousand. Now, that wall was ours, protecting us from a futile Earth Kingdom resistance as our forces gathered their strength on the safe side of it, biding our time while our guns atop the wall hammered their positions. Range was on their side and I almost did pity the helpless saps whose only saving grace was a one foot hole in the ground that would hardly be enough to protect them from the fragmentation of each of our shells that came raining down upon them.
Almost.
I was alone in the tank with Hizo right now, Boss and Zek at the moment out to scrounge up some dinner for us from logistics. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until the prospect of a meal had actually been brought up. I'd skipped breakfast, had been choking on dust and debris for lunch, and now that dinner was here did I just realize I had an appetite.
So, Hizo and I waited, him in the tank's maintenance bay, testing the occasional one of Shanzi's systems to ensure she was still in working order despite the hit she'd taken, and me thumbing over the tally marks on my helmet, desperate to try and remember where I was now. It had to be over a hundred by now, the marks on my helmet having tallied up to sixty-two, and that being a month old figure. Between our two attacks on the wall, I had to have killed at least enough to bring me up to the triple digits, but, of course, there was no way of proving that. It was easier at the start, each face of a man I'd slain having left a perfect indentation on my mind, each as memorable as the last until the point that now they began to blend into one another, each as indistinctive as the last.
And probably for the better too when I thought about it.
It was a waste to try and count them all off like points to a game. This would only end once every soldier between us and the Ba Sing Se royal palace was dead and in the ground, not a moment sooner, and quite tragically, my helmet did not have near enough space for that number of tally marks.
"Try something for me a sec?" I heard Hizo call to me from Shanzi's rear.
"Hrm?" I asked.
"Give the pedals a push, see of the turret moves. Think I finally got things hooked up right over here."
I set my helmet down on the gunner platform and adjusted my seating position to have my feet able to reach the pedals. I pushed down first on the right pedal, to no avail, met only with a hollow whir. I tried then on the left, and the turret moved only half a foot or so before it came to a jarring halt, as though running into something. Clearly enough, the installation of the new turret wasn't going quite as hoped.
With the amount of damage sustained during the fighting, the old turret had been deemed a lost cause and removed entirely for scrap alongside the grappling hook attachment, which was something of a shame, but a necessity to get our tanks back to as much mobile efficiency as they could muster. It was no great effort to simply replace the turret as well, which had been done, but the rehooking of hydraulics had been left to us and, needless to say, Hizo was having a time of it.
"Not working," I called back. I pressed back down on the right, and it moved the same half foot that it'd moved before, only now stopped by some other boundary. "Think it's blocked by something," I said. "Think the hull's fucked or something?"
"No…," Hizo's voice trailed off. "Noise we'd be hearing would be a lot fucking worse if that was it. Must've just hooked up something wrong; give me a sec."
I nodded, and took my feet away from the pedals, leaving Hizo to his work. I picked my helmet back up again, wondering if perhaps I may give an effort of trying to remember at least a fraction of the sixty-two faces of the men whose lives I'd taken up until this point, but soon decided against it. With little else to do, all there was was to sit back in my seat and listen to the echoing thumps of artillery exchange. Fortunately, I wasn't kept waiting long before Hizo made the same request of me once again.
"Give it another shot?"
I sat up again, and once more tried. I was taken off guard and found myself lurching to the side as the entire gunnery platform shifted fluidly to the right, then to the left with the other pedal, smoother than I could ever remember it before be it on this tank, or the last with Gan and Gunji.
"Fuckin' hell," I muttered to myself as I finally let go of the pedals and the turret came to a halt.
"Workin', I take it?" Hizo asked.
"That obvious?" I chuckled. "Sensitive as hell now though."
"Can probably do some adjusting with that if-"
"No," I interrupted. "Better this way." It was. A turret moving as quick as this, once I got adjusted to the point whiplash wouldn't be a risk, it would be one hell of an asset, able to turn a full 360 degrees in under a second.
Hizo was in the process of closing up his maintenance panels when Boss and Zek returned, caught in a shower of dust from the top of the wall as they opened the tank hatch to huddle inside for shelter.
"Look at that," Hizo exclaimed when met by the sight of Zek struggling to fit inside the tank while maintaining his grip on what seemed to be our rations for the night. "Right on time! I trust you took the scenic view? I hear there's a beautiful wall that's worth a look."
"Oh you know how we love our sightseeing, Hizo, but worry not, your stew is only half cold."
"I prefer to think of it as half warm."
Boss was the next to squeeze in, doing so with what some might say with a degree more dignity.
"You two finish up here?" He asked mostly Hizo as he handed me the ration of stew and bread. I took it.
"Mostly," Hizo said, closing up the shop. "Got things in I'd say mostly in working order considering the day we've had."
"Good," Boss said, seemingly waiting to elaborate. Zek, however, would take the initiative to fill that silence.
"He says good because rations aren't the only thing we got from command. Got marching orders too."
Well that was quick.
"Kiddin' me," Hizo said in response. "Already?"
"Mhm," Zek answered, having now squeezed in enough to hand Hizo's rations to the man. I opened mine up, my tin now returned to me with a somehow still hot serving of stew within. I managed to even spot what seemed to be carrots and…chicken? More likely than not the meat was rat, but I wasn't about to complain about protein. I'd eaten worse after all.
"So what are the orders?" I asked before blowing on my stew to cool it down, opting for a taste of the side of bread instead, hard enough that it crumbled in my lap, but the inside just soft enough that it didn't crunch as the crust did.
Boss turned to face me, something resembling surprise on his face.
What? I wondered. I'd already had the afternoon to relax. Was I supposed to have expected that we'd be getting a break so soon. There still was a city to be won. Frankly, the break for this afternoon and evening was more than I'd been betting to hope for. It was only natural that we would need to secure our holdings.
"Spirits," Zek chuckled, taking a seat in the cockpit next to Boss, placing his tin on his lap to begin the meal.
Boss would step in quick enough to provide the desired answer that at least Hizo and I were waiting for, saying, "Earth Kingdom's been trying to dig in since we took the wall. Haven't taken permanent positions as they seem to be waiting for reinforcements and so have dug in as much as they could between us and an auxiliary line as they wait for reinforcements. Our guns have naturally been pounding them as I'm sure you can hear but command isn't keen to wait on reinforcements."
"Probably worried they may make a play for the wall," Zek said, clearly having come to his own conclusion since having heard the news himself.
"You're kidding," Hizo said. After the hell our guys went through to take after a year in the making, they really think they can do in a week? Hell, a day?!"
"They'd be better equipped to do it than us," I observed.
"Spirits, man," Hizo sighed. "You kidding?"
I hadn't meant it in offense, so I elaborated. "They've got earthbenders, access to other parts of the wall. They attack from the ground and atop the wall at the same time, they could clear our artillery, push us back to the wrong side of this, assuming they act quick enough. And at far less a cost too."
The explanation hadn't had the desired effect. "Really saying that shit after everything?"
"He's right," Boss interjected in my defense, fortunately. "Our situation isn't a secure one. Not yet at least. Dragon of the West wants our reserve forces, those spared from the majority of the fighting today, to make a push before the Earth Kingdom can consolidate. We'll be advancing on their dugouts, and make a play for their auxiliary line."
"I'm sorry; reserve?!" Hizo exclaimed. "So why the hell's that including us?"
"Ah come on," Zek chuckled after a mouthful of stew had gone down. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
I took another sip of my own stew, observing, letting it soak the chunk of bread already in my mouth until it'd sopped up enough broth to go down easily.
"We were on the frontlines today, took more a hit than anyone else who lived. No damned reason it should be onus to go out tomorrow as well."
"Well," Zek said again. "We're the lucky exception."
His humor did not seem to be having the intended effect of calming down Hizo. In fact, it seemed to be having quite the opposite effect. Then again, who could say that Hizo was the one meant to be calmed by it. The odds were just as likely that Zek was talking as he was for his own sake.
"Armored's limited as it is," I commented. "We're inexpendable."
"That's a pretty way of putting it," Hizo grumbled.
Not one to let a good brief go to waste, Boss continued. "Armored units will be deployed to storm the Earth Kingdom's foxholes and drive the enemy out. We will then act as infantry support to provide cover for our boys hitting the auxiliary line."
"We'll be storming their holes without support? What about anti-armor?"
"Earth Kingdom won't have had time nor breathing room to set up anything substantial. They may have earthbenders out there, but for the most part, we'll be rolling over infantry. No mines, no cannons until we reach the rear line, easy passage as we can ask for."
"I don't know, Boss," Hizo said. "I can ask for a lot."
Boss didn't dignify the jest with a response. "I know that what I'm asking from you is a lot, especially in light of what you've already done for your nation today, but to make sure that it isn't all in vain, we need to make one last push."
"And then one push after that," Hizo said under his breath. "And another after that. Is that right, Boss?"
He did not answer, instead turning to Zek to at least try and get some support from the man who'd already gotten these orders along with him.
"Hey, I already had my time to say my prayers."
Then it was my turn. I was taking my last bites of my bread, mopping up what was left of my stew to finish off. Did I have complaints, concerns? No more than anybody else. I hadn't tricked myself into thinking that the war had ended today. Had we reached a milestone worthy of the history books, maybe, but the Earth Kingdom hadn't fallen with Ba Sing Se's outer wall.
"And you?" Boss asked.
"Are you kidding?" Zek chuckled. "You saw him out there today. Badass, stone-blooded killer."
It was a better name than 'kid,' that was for sure. It'd been just about a month with the 44th, and many names had passed my way in that time. 'Kid,' gunner,' 'badass, stone-blooded killer,' and while all were as perfectly valid as the last, none quite had the same meaning to me as what Boss would finally say that would cement to me what my purpose here was.
"Aegis," he said, finally capturing my attention. Aegis. My name. Not one given to me by the streets, not one I'd come up for myself in some desperate effort to claim control, but the name that was mine, the name that stuck with me still here, as I gave it a meaning that mattered–that of somebody who wasn't done until the job was done, who would fight as long as was needed, and who wouldn't stop until either he, or everybody in his way was in the ground. I didn't know which of the two would come first, but I wasn't a fluke of luck anymore, running away from said odds, too scared to put them to the test. I was a soldier.
So, when Boss asked, "You good?" the response came easily to me.
I set down my tin, downed a swig of water from my canteen, setting it down as well, and leaned back in my chair to close my eyes, ready for the day ahead.
"Wake me when it's time."