“Holding the line on this side of the Aldorf has to be the stupidest crap high command would give us. Why? Why can’t they just retreat the Army to the already half-fortified defenses behind the Aldorf? Are we supposed to buy time here? Then why are we launching counter-offensives for no reason? But what do I know? I’m no Confederate General. Perhaps the old ladies in the Confederal Assembly have better ideas on the conduct of war than some unknown sod down here on the frontline. Still sucks ass. Tomorrow, the entire corps would be tasked with retaking four cities. My brigade and company would have to advance twenty kilometers forward. Even a Lieutenant like me knows that crap ain’t possible. Bet we’d just end up on a well-placed ambush on the way. Not that Captain Victoria would listen.”

- Excerpt from Lieutenant Hans Hoffman’s Journal Entries.

+++

+++ Lieutenant Hans Hoffman +++

Unknown

The Peacemaker was driving relatively well through the rough terrain, Hans noted. For hours through the night, he had been driving forward while following the map that he obtained from that ambushed convoy. The map…well, he didn’t really quite understand the writings and what those words meant. Strangely enough, it was written in the Imperial Script, which was the universal standard of writing from his world, born out of the time of the First Flandrian Empire, when they ruled half of the world before the Age of Revolutions.

Now they’re at the “Third Empire”. Briefly, Hans laughed internally at those invaders. Flinging feces at those pompous people had been a natural pastime for Lotharingians like him. While he would never claim to be a red-blooded Lotharingian nationalist, Hans hated the Flandrians more than he hated his own government. They had always been the Imperialist bastards that already waged multiple wars each time their government collapsed and the new one needed a way to unite their people.

Retake Albion! Their last Empress shouted.

Retake Sicilia! Their last President shouted.

Retake Lotharingia! And the rest of the continent! Their new Emperor shouted.

And thus, the story of the last three Great Wars that ravaged his continent. The Flandrians always wanted to restore their former glory, for some insane reason. They’d always blame their neighboring countries for “rebelling” and “destroying their nation”. And their colonial network across the seas would always be dragged into their wars in his continent. Thankfully, Lotharingia, Albion, Sicilia, and other nations of the developed world had banded into an alliance this time. Even then, somehow, the Lotharingian and Sicilian fronts were both collapsing.

The world, again, was supposed to be at war, but right now, Hans was seeing nothing. Nothing at all that indicated war. Nothing. There were just endless forests, and endless flora and fauna, but no Flandrian artillery, Sicilian tanks, Lotharingian mechs, nor Albionese aircraft around him. Just him and this…girl that he saved from those beasts.

He sighed. She was already asleep now, leaning on him. She was sitting on his lap since the Wanderfalke’s cockpit was only designed for one person, but thankfully, it had enough space between him and the control sticks and displays in front of him. Earlier, she had been nothing but entranced by the sight of the machinery and displays around her, that she even tried to poke on one of the screens that showed his main gun’s targeting feeds, before she retracted it upon hearing Hans laugh.

Eventually, watching Hans drive around with the control sticks probably bored her, and she fell asleep. As expected of children, especially young girls. He doubted whatever he was doing appealed to her in any way. Still, what could he do? He was no babysitter after all, and entertaining children was the last thing he had in his skill set.

Ah…crap. He reminded himself of something. It’s already past nine, and I haven’t eaten yet. Or fed her. Of course, just like any soldier in a survival situation, eating was far behind Hans’ priorities. But damn it, he wanted to head smack himself for forgetting that he had a girl to temporarily tend to, and he certainly should not extend his brain-damaged habits to her. She needed to eat.

This is why no one should trust me with kids. He began driving his Wanderfalke into the side of the road, continuing on into a decently well-covered part of the forest. His mech stopped, and Hans, carefully, tried to shift Alizée into his own seat as he popped his hatch open.

“Just stay here,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I apologize, young miss, but I’m a bit clumsy for forgetting you should eat. I’ll prepare food, then I’ll just wake you up later.”

He tried his best to ensure that she was sitting in a comfortable way before he left his mech with his gun on him. Now what? As usual, he’d have to clear the area, maybe gather a bit of wood and crap to start a fire, then grab his MREs to do…well, whatever food he could make. On that note, I only have a week’s worth of rations. He scratched the back of his head. I’d definitely need more to stretch that as best as I can.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Which was a bit of a complication, since there was a kid with him now. Technically, he could go around and forage for whatever crap he could forage, mix it with the MREs, and get a disgusting soup that shall not be named but definitely good enough to fill him, but…he doubted he could feed someone like her with that. Ah well, I’ll just sacrifice one full package for her. I bet if I reach that town, she’d be out of my care by the next day anyway.

He looked around at his surroundings, trying to ascertain if there was any danger anywhere. Luckily, his MS22 SMG had a fine sight with it. Its ACOS (Advanced Combat Optical Sight) had a 2x magnification, alongside a night-vision setting on it. Now that he looked at it, his SMG was probably the best thing he had for whatever he would face. He had enough ammo to last through multiple firefights, he could see at a good distance, and it fit him well. Certainly, being an ace pilot had some perks in the liberties he could take with his weaponry.

He began scanning the surroundings for any contacts, or anything that could possibly threaten them, but he found nothing. Hans sighed, before looking back at his mech. It was time to gather crap and start cooking. The plight of every grunt. Turning his safety back on, he walked back to the Peacemaker to begin the work. Now…he just needed to choose what to feed him and her.

+++

“Hey, wake up,” Hans said, as he shook her as gently as he could. “Wake up, kid. I got food. I know you’re hungry. Come on.”

Her eyes soon opened, and it was clear the young girl was still sleepy as hell. He wondered if it was the brightest idea to wake her up for food, but damn it, sleeping on an empty stomach was not something he’d let her undergo. His mother never allowed him to starve before sleeping, and neither would he to this kid.

After a little bit of encouragement, that Hans doubted she understood, Alizée voluntarily climbed out of the mech with him. Outside, Hans set up a little campfire, some wood to sit on, alongside the MRE pouch with the main dish that he already cooked using the heaters in the package. He gave it to her, alongside a plastic spoon, and she looked at it with a bit of suspicion, before she gave its contents a smell.

“It’s chicken soup, come on, it’s got lots of meat in it,” Hans said. “Eat.”

“Food? It smells…kinda nice…” she replied, but Hans didn’t really understand. Still, he was a bit elated that the girl was speaking this time. “Thanks, Sir Hans.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying, but I’m telling you, that thing rocks. One of the best MRE types out there,” Hans said, before he turned to his own thing. On the other hand, Hans was a bit more conservative with his food. Instead of using up his MRE, Hans tore the biscuits, bread, and other crap left from the package and mixed it with some herbs and berries he found in the vicinity. That way, he didn’t have to open up another package. Naturally, his food looked…well, more of an abomination on the cooking pot he had above the fire, but Hans didn’t give a crap.

Food is food.

He soon poured the…whatever that thing was onto his plate and began eating it. Not the greatest, nor the worst (those berries tasted strange with the applesauce flavor) and the greens were probably no good, but it filled the belly. Man, at this rate, I can be a five-star cook. He wanted to cry at this point. He didn’t know his survival foraging training would ever have to be used, but now, he was utterly cut off from rations and the battalion’s cooks.

Sure, they fed them shit food compared to the regulars in the Army, but he was at least an officer so he received something half-decent. Now, he was eating a slurry that was probably worse than Flandrian war crimes against Lotharingian women and children. He shook his head and looked at the young girl, who seemed to be savoring the actual food little by little.

Hold on, you mongrel! You’re the one who decided you’ll only use one MRE package to feed two people. Die by that decision!

Hans began force-feeding himself faster to prove that he’d eat even the abomination he cooked if he had to. Meanwhile, beside him, the young girl seemed to already enjoy the product of Lotharingian food technology with delight. Hans himself loved the chicken soup MREs, and it was one of his top favorites. It genuinely tasted like the real one, even if it was processed and filled with salt and crap.

He sighed, realizing that his plate was already empty. He probably wasn’t as hungry as he thought considering the mild nausea he was feeling from its atrocious taste, but he should be good until tomorrow. And if those berries were poisonous (he swore it had to be the same species from his homeland, unless…if his eyes were lying to him), well, good game and all that.

The young girl also seemed to be already finishing her meal, so, Hans took the remaining biscuits from the MRE package he opened and placed the strawberry jam that he wasn’t mad enough to add to his concoction of “food”. Spreading it with a clean plastic spoon, he gave two of the biscuits to her.

She seemed to have finished her thing already, and she looked at Hans’ offerings curiously.

“Come on, I get it, I’m just another dude who can’t cook. I ain’t no chef, yes, but this thing is half-decent, I swear.”

She looked at him with those curious eyes of hers.

“Can I really have this, Sir Hans?”

“Look, I swear, I’m not poisoning you.”

“You’re strangely kind for a Vanus. Mother said our kind has always been evil even to each other, because we’re mostly arrogant nobles, but…”

“Yes, it’s strawberry if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’ll take it with gratitude then, Sir Hans.”

She took it and began eating it. Hans himself only had one biscuit for himself, and he snacked on it slowly. After all…it had been the only good food he had that night.

He laughed…he couldn’t imagine himself giving up the good stuff for another person before all this, but…

I guess children just have that effect on you.

He soon ate it fully, satisfied with his decisions for now.