>>5715066More than anything Clara was tired. It was deep into the night but when her eyelids closed she couldn't feel anything but the rumbling of treads, the snap of gunfire ground into her bones. The screams. Leutnant Hoffman was frankly a piece of shit, a stuck up noble prick who could barely tell his ass from his face for how much shit came out of his mouth. But he hadn't deserved to die like that, burning until his eyes popped, screaming for his mother. He lived for 11 agonizing hours after that engagement. She wished she had had the spine to put a bullet through his temple and end his suffering. But she hadn't.
Captain Haas had died blissfully quickly, a sniper had shot straight through the base of his skull. In the moment it hadn't been too difficult, instinct overriding conscious thought as she assumed command, coordinating the tattered remnants of her command to storm the forward reconnaissance elements of whatever godforsaken Twaryian formation had been hunting them and killed them to the last, quarter neither asked for nor given. She ordered their trucks sabotaged and abandoned and melted into the forest.
When the adrenaline stopped pumping her stomach began to sink. 5th Independent Grenzer Company was now her responsibility, dozens upon dozens of kilometers behind enemy lines with no hope of relief. Second Platoon never showed up again, whether they were lost, still out there somewhere, captured, or killed she didn't know. Less than half her command was still with her, a part of her wanted to give up, to disperse her soldiers and give them at least their lives if not their pride and dignity over chancing a hopeless run to the southwest. She pushed those thoughts away, recovered as much of her composure as possible and began 2 weeks of hell.
Clara Becker opened her eyes and got up off her cot. She felt through her rucksack, and retrieved a shrapnel scarred metal tin embossed with a stylized rose. She toyed with it for a few seconds more as she indulged in memories of better times before taking a single stick of incense from within. Captain Haas had teased her over carrying a lighter everywhere even though she never smoked. She allowed herself to wander through those happier memories for a few moments. With a strike of the flint, the incense began to smoke. Clasping her hands together, she mouthed a silent prayer to the old man, swearing that she would sit on his Judgement were she needed. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she wordlessly beseeched that Saint Rufiya end this terrible war so that the bloodshed could end. Her eyes opened and wet streaks flowed down her face as she begged for her comrades who had already given so much be allowed their lives for their bravery.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The incense had burned down to her fingers. She pinched the smoldering ember out and returned to sleep.
Hoffman's screams stayed with her that night.