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[sub][color=Silver][i]Garnian Salient: Post-Empire Trench Capture, August 25th - [b]Securing Hill 58[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	The time in which he reacted to Diana's compliment on his smile was drawn out. For a second, he could feel himself smiling and becoming slightly flustered, almost forgetting about the battlefield around them. [i]Almost.[/i] She had a lovely, yet strange, ambience to her presence, one that threw genuine happiness into the souls of the weak. Jean was indefinitely taken back by her, albeit nervous, response to his weary smile, but it was her voice altogether that added the icing atop of the statement. Jean smiled again, looking away in a very unsubtle embarrassment, forcing him to take a stand onto his own legs again as Lucia was led off. And there he stood, still and utterly emotionless, for what was quite possibly an hour. People were chatting all around him and yet Jean continued to feel almost ethereal as the blurs of everyone around him scooted by. The temporary divergence from the war was broken when he looked simply at the clearing of Imperial and Federation bodies from the trench. Soldiers who hadn't been within the charge were put on the duty of cleaning up such corpses as if they were entitled to giving them the unruly burial. Rather than give the Imperials the opportunity of a respectful conclusion, many were tossed aside and occasionally looted for treasuries.

	A hand placed itself down on Jean's shoulder, gently, yet forcefully, moving him to face the direction of its origination. Striped, he was, with thrice as many as Jean had. A Sergeant, respectively. With a great load of facial hair surrounding his upper lip, he definitely took the burly, nationalist NCO stereotype to a whole new level. Jean looked at him with a few empty blinks. The Sergeant, in a rather crude joking matter, pinched his cheeks to try and spark some light back into the man.[/color]

[color=Gold][b]"Lad, if you don't stop staring at that lass you'll start drooling."[/b][/color] [color=silver]Objectively, Jean knew that the man was wrong. Jean wasn't looking or spying on the females of the group by any means and instead was musing over the treatment of the dead. It sickened him, to say the least.[/color] [color=Gold][b]"Now come with me, for a moment. Lieutenant Middleton wants all NCOs to report to him for analysis. Do you know where Lance Corporal Black is as well..?"[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Taking care of a...a young soldier."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean finally mustered the courage to say something, trying to snap himself out of the horrifying reminder that he was surrounded by those who's fleeting moments were spent drowning in their own oozing blood. The Sergeant looked upon him with a sceptical raise of the eyebrow, despite Jean having been correct for once. He twirled his bountiful moustache and muttered something before finally responding to his claim.[/color]

[color=Gold][b]"Is that so, lad? Go get him."[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"W-With all due respect, Sergeant, she was very badly swept up. P-Perhaps he can keep the morale of the Platoon up. I'll...I'll just relay what the Lieutenant says to him after."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean held his breath before the Sergeant reluctantly nodded, seeing the logic in his place. He too agreed that the morale of the troops was something to uphold, which Middleton may had seen it as least important. Even with conflicting views, Jean couldn't help but stare at the Sergeant and only imagine him as a puppet to the Lieutenant, being made to do irrational things for the irrational means of another spoilt man.

	They began to walk, in unison, further down the trench system. A few twists and turns were required as the expanse of the battle started to make itself clear. There were far more bodies required for clearing on the left side of the trench, which was luckily the side Jean's group hadn't taken. More of the soldiers of the Federation who were still alive on that left flank were bleeding, holding in their own wounds or awaiting treatment of their own, even after an hour of the charge's finish. Jean's legs wobbled and shook when he thought of it, shuddering in its position. The sockets ached when he thought of what it truly felt like to get shot. Jean did, as evident by his helmet's dent, scrape a bullet by his head. If the angle had been any deeper, Jean would've been dead without a doubt, yet he wasn't. He never understood why he hadn't been given up for such a stupid act of rescuing a dead body, but he hadn't yet fallen. It worried him, in reality.

	As the pair continued their journey towards Middleton, Jean finally found the confidence to speak his mind when he saw the bodies of the Imperials, once again being tossed simply outside of the trench into ditches previously dug by artillery fire. There was no honour in their burials, it seemed, and Jean couldn't help but feel sorry for them. As a humanitarian by heart, it pained him to see such disregard for the decease of many, many men and women.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Sergeant...M-May I..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He paused for a moment, seeing that the Sergeant simply turned towards him and nodded, awaiting his question.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"I can't help but...but feel nervous as to why we are giving our dead to graves, but not the Imperials. I mean...doesn't it just seem a bit weird how we don't value them in the same way?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	The Sergeant stopped walking, turning around and placing a firm, painful grasp onto Jean's shoulders. He whispered into his ears about treason, words that kind of slipped by Jean as he felt his ears go numb. The bitterness of the cold, alongside the firmness of the Sergeant's grip, made him shiver and shudder. In reality he wasn't fully getting anything of what he was saying, but it was crystal clear that the Sergeant was warning him to choose his words correctly. Saying the sort of humanitarian ideals around in a battlefield environment could be insinuating that he cared for the enemy. Middleton's Regiment was built mostly on the famous values of nationalism and anti-Imperial sentiments. It was a real case of dehumanising the enemy. Jean could see now that the war was built entirely on thinking lesser of the opposition and placing their own comrades on a pedestal. But to the Federation Lance Corporal, how could he respect the brass and higher ups if his first battle saw the slaughter of hundreds before they even reached the top of the hill? Was this a common battle for the war? Some of the Sergeants like the one before him seemed completely composed about the structure of the battle. Had the war really been fought in such a barbaric way this entire time? Jean felt a foul taste come into his mouth.

	Eventually, the two arrived to a small crowd of muddy NCOs, all surrounding Middleton. The Lieutenant had a sharp look on his face as he stared through the binoculars wrapped loosely around his neck. On the approaching distance, Jean could hear him muttering to himself and other fellow officers who'd joined the formation. It was clear that Lieutenant Middleton held ultimate authority over the rest of the 2nd Lieutenants around him, as he had apparently orchestrated the whole assault itself. Some of the NCOs around him, such as Corporals, Sergeants and Staff Sergeants, all coloured themselves impressed by his strategy in comparison to previous trench raids from certain Majors or Captains. Jean was definitely not a sceptic as such but he knew that the charge of Hill 58 was no manifestation of a tactical genius.

	Middleton eventually turned towards the rest, counting the heads of the other NCOs who'd arrived on the scene. At first, Jean thought that this was just to see who'd bothered to show up, but the stout truth to this was simply to see who was still left alive. He realised this shortly after Middleton stared straight into his own eyes and gave a sort of annoyed look as to how thin the NCO list had already become. It was more of a nuisance and thorn in the Lieutenant's side, but how could he care on a personal level without having any need of human life other than to orchestrate and complete the means of war and strategy?

	Within a few seconds, Middleton finally let out a large sigh and turned his eyes around in his sockets. There were some pressing matters to attend to and he could only afford around 14 other NCOs, 15 if he counted Isaac who couldn't attend the meeting. It was more of a short update, preparing them for an upcoming storm of such. It seemed that Middleton had a keener eye than Jean had expected.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"At ease, ladies and gentlemen. As you could expect, we've ran into some minor complications. I want you all to take a look around and tell me what's wrong with this trench."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]With his vague and almost cryptic introduction, the NCOs began to all look amongst one another in confusion. Jean didn't dare make eye contact with the other contracted killers amongst the group, but instead he simply looked at the corrupted officer with a strong glare. From time to time he did look around, but his mind wouldn't bother suggesting what he had figured out on the way towards the meeting. Before Middleton could confirm anything, a few answers from the NCOs began to come into the light, all of which he denied quickly.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"Is it that the Imperials did not build a strong defence?"[/b][/color]

[color=Red][b]"It must be that they haven't included any dugout holes either?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	The Lieutenant smirked and chuckled at their apparent insolence. It was quite clear towards him that he knew the answer best, and so he decided to share it with a more composed face, once he'd had his laugh of course. Why wouldn't the man take the time to enjoy himself in the face of imminent panic?[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"And they call you officers, of the sort? No. Remember our objective. We were assigned to charge up this hill and to secure the artillery positions. Now tell me, my subordinates...Do you see any artillery cannons?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]By a matter of fact, Jean was slightly surprised by the answer given. The Lance Corporal thought it was to do with the lower Imperial defender numbers than originally anticipated, but the lack of artillery guns made him stagger in confusion. Had they simply charged up this hill and sacrificed hundreds of soldiers without even reaching their objective? Jean was appalled by the revelation and turned around quickly, his head thumping with the images of the battle once more. These Imperials seemed to have a knack at defending, it seemed, and this hill seemed like the perfect place for trickery and deceit.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"I have reasons to believe that whilst we have done our part in securing this hill, we are without the knowledge of where their guns are. Until now, that is. If you look closely enough down the opposing side of the hill, towards the newly penetrated Imperial frontline, you can see larger duckboards, easily known for transporting heavy gear and soldiers over thickened mud. It has become apparent to me that they knew that we were to be upon them like the devil within a matter of hours and thus retrieved what they could. Don't let the spoils of their trickery hinder our victory, though. We captured the hill, which I needed for us to take. We now have the higher ground over the Salient, and thus have broken through and began to alter. For now, we will be holding here in these trenches for three hours, approximately. Sappers from the 12th Vinland Mortars voluntary division will be reinforcing this hill alongside the 3rd Atlantic Fusiliers. Just sit tight, you horrible lot."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean could see that many of the NCOs would let out a sigh before beginning to disperse from the meeting, but a pressing matter was still lurking on the man's mind. He knew that not all the answers had been given and he was yet to learn more about the tactical reasoning behind this revelation they'd been bestowed upon. He took to the front, slightly having to push his way past the more senior of non-commissioned officers and seasoned veterans.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"L-Lieutenant, if I may?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]As he heard his rank called, he and the other NCOs all turned to Jean and his urgency. The pressing vision of their eyes resting upon his muddy face made Jean feel even more anxious to ask, but he followed through anyhow.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"I still don't...I don't understand. Why would the Imperials move their artillery off of the hill when it was their advantage? Couldn't they have just bombed us before we...before we charged?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	His heart thumped. Once. Twice. Three times, again and again. The eyes of the beady rested upon him with ruthless judgement, actually finding it weird that a greenhorn Lance Corporal would actually try to get more information than he was gifted from his superior. Most of the time, the information like that was only known to the highest of brass, yet Jean was eager to get some answers and to help understand the tactic the Imperials had in play. Maybe there wasn't a tactic and it was just fear, but Jean was so certain that because of the perfect timing and planning put into moving such heavy pieces of artillery that it could not merely be an act of cowardice.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"God, it's like you Darcsens really don't understand...Are you slow, Lance Corporal?"[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"W-What, uh...Sir?"[/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Are you, or are you not, a slow thinker, one who doesn't understand my hints like the rest of the dark-heads do?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The bluntness and coarse tone of the racial question caused a few of the Corporals and Sergeants around him to laugh and snigger at the Darcsen. He was again embarrassed and scared as to the pressure they laid upon him, but he tried to prevail and hold his ground with nervous intent.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"No...no, S-sir![/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"It seems like it.[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He called for all the other NCOs to disperse, leaving the Lieutenant and the Darcsen alone together for a brief moment. Middleton wandered forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, albeit quite gently, and held a strange tone that made Jean uncomfortable by all means.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"It's simple really. You arrived here before the rest of the Platoon, I know that, and you must also know that they didn't strike us with artillery in the few days before the charge, correct? Well, it seems they expected us once more. Why give us the artillery advantage as soon as we take the hill, especially when they can just delay us further by making us wait for the our own artillery and mortars to get here?"[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"So...we're...we are like targets, then? They wanted us to slow down to buy them more time? Did we not...did we not account for this?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean felt a hand silence his words, a gloved hand pressing against his mouth in a sort of unfunny comedic manner. The Lieutenant chuckled lightly at his own silencing of the Lance Corporal, before he noticed something. It was time to try and take Jean's mind off of the matter that they were in fact prey, potentially, and he would do so by noticing the pieces of paper within his pocket. Jean was too slow to react to the Lieutenant grabbing and reading the letters, noticing the poetic lines and stanzas presented before him. Jean was embarrassed immediately, seeing an almost mocking grin sprawl across his superior's face. A burst of laughter made Jean shrivel his head into his shoulders, almost hiding his shame. At the very least, it was alright that his comrades and other NCOs were not present to the mockery, but he couldn't help but see the punishing man rip him to shreds, including his passions. Was he being petty or was this just another way to try and toughen the Darcsen up?[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Is this yours, Lance Corporal?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean nodded slowly, before the Lieutenant pushed them tightly into his chest, slightly scrunching up the paper whilst doing so.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"How will any lost soul read this soppy stuff? How about you devote your time to researching tactics, and maybe we would never of had to have this conversation, perhaps? Now go make yourself useful with the platoon and wait for further orders. We're here for another three hours, remember, before the mortars and artillery pieces arrive. Then we can return to the rear-line and prepare for reassignment."[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Re...Reassignment, Sir?"[/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Yes. I cannot share the details now, but you'll learn. Hopefully tomorrow or the day after we'll be leaving for another frontline. Won't spill any spoilers now, so you can wait and see. Should be more...accepting, for greenhorns like you. After all, the 5th Army Group, including the Assault Regiments from Edinburgh, are going to take over with breaking down this Salient. Don't worry...we're the ones who will be hailed as heroes."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean hated that phrase; nothing was honourable to him about being called a supposed hero, especially when he had to crack an imperial skull in with a rock he found on the floor. If that was what being a hero was, demoting his own humanity towards being a primitive species of violence and destruction, then he would have rather been nothing more than an expendable soldier who'd been killed early on. Jean trekked back through the trench, finding himself back where the majority of his newly found comrades were. There were only a few people near him specifically, and the only one of notice Jean could see was the strange and lightening aura of the girl who complimented him before. He didn't know Kalisa's name, and Diana was probably elsewhere or awaiting for him to return, but like the latter girl he felt a strange feeling when gazing upon the more stern girl. He didn't know he was staring, though more in an admirable fashion than a stalkerish one, and instead felt his mind drift away to a perfect dream land.[/color]

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