“Was my sacrifice worth it? Was everything I worked for even…worth it if this is the end result? I don’t know the answer to that. Lord knows, I fear the answer to that. Isn’t that why I’m writing in a journal instead right now? It’s difficult to say. She’s, look, why is she here? Did she die? Did she just find herself portalled or something? I suppose that’s the reality of war anyway. Perhaps, the actions of the individual grunt truly mean nothing in the grand picture of it.”
- Excerpt from Lieutenant Hans Hoffman’s Journal Entries.
+++
+++ Lieutenant Hans Hoffman +++
Confederation of Lotharingia
30 Kilometers West of the Aldorf River
“Lieutenant?!” Hans shouted over the comms. His Wanderfalke crawled slowly through the damaged earth. Had his mech been a little heavier, he’d have long sunk in the softened mud, and the craters filled with water that he was traversing on. He pulled his controls to a stop, as his eyes laid on the burning mech of 1st Platoon’s commanding officer.
There was nothing to it. It stood there, burning ever so subtly as smoke flew in the direction of the wind. The legs were completely dead, its chassis’ front section almost half buried in the mud, while its turret…well, there seemed to be no more turret attached to it. The autoloader ammo rack must have detonated, judging by the distance its remote-controlled turret flew into.
“Lieutenant…?” He couldn’t believe it. He just…was he the last then? “Lieutenant, I thought we’d make it out of here!”
He could not accept it. Why did it have to be this way? He had only known them for a month, but they were 1st Platoon. He struggled to accept the first. The second. He completely broke down on the third. But now…with the last before him dead too…he could only stare.
Why am I the only one left now?
He turned his turret to the left, foregoing any ideas of staying in this compromising position any further, as he drove his mech down into a crater filled with muddy rainwater. The scars on his lands, on Lotharingia, had been something he was used to. The frontlines, in just a few months, had turned into a nightmare for those who had seen it.
The mud. The craters created by the artillery…he knew a million shells must have rained in just a ten-kilometer radius from him since the war started. The barbed wires, tank traps, and landmines…and of course, the corpses he was with. His sensors were so effective that he had full video feeds of three Lotharingian corpses, most likely already decayed for months and left unrecovered, still unceremoniously lying dead on the crater he took as shelter for himself.
All that was left on them was their helmets and torn uniforms, but he could imagine that they held out here before being taken out. Three brothers in one crater. In a way, he felt jealous of these corpses. They died side-by-side with their brothers. Meanwhile, he and the 1st Platoon died in separate, solitary metal coffins.
He wondered, if he died here, would the next one that would go here find him in such a way too? Just another faceless skeleton of a destroyed disposable war machine?
I don’t want to die.
His body trembled as he shakingly pulled himself back away from his mindless mullings into the war he was fighting.
I don’t want to die.
He pushed his mech forward, ever so slowly, raising its turret just enough so he could take a look through its targeting sensors. A peek, it was all he needed, to see the battlefield in front of him. If it was safe or not. He needed to find a way to get out of there and clear the area out.
I don’t want to die.
He tried to check his comms, to check if anyone would respond to his desperate pleas for aid. But all he got was the garbled interference, most likely due to the Flandrians sabotaging their comms. Still, Hans wanted to at least talk to Captain Victoria. Hate her, as much as he wanted, but…he wanted to at least screech out to that damned woman his last words if he died.
He wanted to ask for her help. Maybe she would not come to his aid. Maybe the other platoons were indeed too far. Maybe…maybe they were dead. But he wanted her to hear his voice as he died. That she sent them into this absolute disaster. That she sent the 1st Platoon to their deaths. For Hans, she deserved to confront that. He and his brothers were no faceless useless “convicts” to throw away. They were people.
But…but no reply came. Only static. Hans wanted to bash it, but…well, there was nothing he could do. At least, if he found a way out of here, he could take his words to her, and give her at least a form of payback for damning his platoon.
But he needed to survive first.
It was three Murat MBMs, all advancing toward his position. One thousand five hundred meters away. Spread out, with infantry covering them from behind. Hans took a deep breath, as he turned his gun to their lead vehicle. Who even was he to face all this? He was just a stupid greenie who couldn’t even pilot his mech properly. All kills that he had, were soft-skinned vehicles.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
He had never taken out a single Murat MBM, even when the Wanderfalke’s main gun was designed specifically for anti-tank purposes. He held his breath, as the enemy continued advancing. APFSDS. He told himself, as he heard the autoloader subtly changing out the previously loaded round on the chamber. Aim at the turret cheek. He slowly turned it down there. Or at the lower chassis.
He felt his cold sweat building up, but he persevered. Alone or not, he was trained for this, damn it! Yet…he really wanted to just squirm and run. Maybe he should just pop the hatch open and pathetically wave a white rag at them, shouting in his lungs, “I surrender!” in Lotharingian, only for them to shoot him.
He held off that tugging urge to collapse. I don’t want to die. He couldn’t pull the trigger. What if…what if it missed? What if it bounced off? What if he screwed up and all that he would have is him revealing his position? He’d be dead meat. So, so dead.
I didn’t want to be here. Why? Why? Why? I don’t wanna die!
“Just pull the goddamned trigger, damn it!”
I don’t want to die!
“Just do it, Hans, just, fuckin do it and fight, why can’t I fight?! Just fight back!”
I don’t want to die!
“They killed your goddamned platoon mates, Hans! Fight back!”
I don’t—
He pulled the fire trigger…and thus, the first kill ring on his main gun.
+++
+++ Lieutenant Hans Hoffman +++
Unknown
Hans’ eyes opened.
0633 Hours huh?
He must have slept for way too long. He looked down at the sleeping girl on his lap. Once again, it seemed that Alizée was still dreaming about, well, whatever children dreamt about.
He wiped the cold sweat on his forehead. For some reason, his heart was palpitating a bit when he woke up. That wasn’t probably healthy. Last night, Alizée certainly ate decently. Not him. Perhaps that gnawing hunger was catching up. Not that he wanted to use up his rations yet. He truly needed to stretch it, as he didn’t know when he would find proper foodstuff.
And he’d rather beat himself than let a child starve. No way would he take food that he already designated for her.
And so, with a little bit of stretching, he turned the engines and the propulsion system of his mech back on. So far, he had only traveled not even three kilometers from that village after that encounter. Hans…didn’t feel safe about his surroundings. What if one of those appeared out of nowhere?
He didn’t want to end up in an ambush, so, yesterday was more of him conducting a cautious recce of the area. Right now, he probably needed to do that again. But considering that no attacks came when he and Alizée slept while his Wanderfalke was parked on the side of the road…
Perhaps the path forward was safe.
I still need to find civilization after all.
He returned back on the road. However, something…seemed strange. As the minutes bled by, he started seeing something on the road. A trail. Not just any trail…it seemed to be created by a mech.
Goddess…
Hans’ combat instincts returned in a snap. Immediately, he was out of the main road, back into the woods. His turret turned left and right, as he engaged every sensor he had. Unfortunately, due to the forest, his field of sight was bad. But Hans wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t fall into a trap or ambush created by a Flandrian mech.
If there was an enemy here, he would not be the one found first. He would find them first. And he’d place an APFSDS (Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot) round straight into them first.
He continued moving, relocating as best as he could while staying under cover. The woods were hard to traverse, and he imagined if he had a tank, these irregularities in the terrain would have significantly hindered him. But not his Wanderfalke. At least, unless the density of the trees were too extreme.
It wasn’t. He continued driving through the forest, jumping through a pond and through a rocky area, and climbing what appeared to be a hill of sorts. He seemed to be in good cover, and so, he drove to the direction of the road, using the hill as a vantage point.
Captain…Adelyn?
His eyes must not be lying. It couldn’t be. That was ridiculous. Why the hell was she, of all people, right here? Did she die too? No, this was utterly ridiculous. Did he die then? Or was he teleported out before that, and she too was involved? No, the problem was she was here! And what the hell was she doing outside of her Wanderadler in the open?!
“You absolutely naive woman…” His blood almost boiled. “What if you died there?”
He pressed a button for his external speakers. “Captain Wittenstein! This is Einweg 1-1! Interrogative: Why are you in an exposed position in a possible combat zone?”
He watched as she suddenly turned around, dropping the binoculars she was using as she stared at Hans’ Wanderfalke with muted shock. Many seconds passed, where Hans deduced that his COs brain must have been frozen for some reason until she shouted back at him.
“Hans?!”
She refers to me on a first-name basis now. She moves fast.
“Affirm, it’s me, Captain,” Hans breathed out. “I’ll be going down there in a sec, out.”
He looked up at the skies on the displays, somewhat both relieved and tired. “I guess I have another one to babysit now. Even in another world…I guess…”
To be fair…he was supposed to find his way back to his superiors anyway. He’d almost trashed that idea.
But it seemed that fate wanted otherwise.