"What's the status of the situation there?" I lay down the report paper from the North and peer at every person in the emergency meeting. Every face in the War Council appears strained; I'm certain that they've heard of the ambush on Unit 109.
"General, the searching team hasn't come back yet, so we have no idea of the situation there." The commanding officer of Unit 209 raises a voice. I can't believe he would open his mouth after sending his troops to the battlefield, later than following the actual command.
"Is that supposed to be an excuse for your incompetent behaviour?" At this point, I can't feel myself growing upset. They even deployed a search unit upon having discovered that all of them had been slaughtered on the battlefield.
They shun my gaze and shut up altogether.
"Everyone is just going to keep quiet?" I question them. Are they anxious now that they've perpetrated such behaviours? I sigh and sink onto the chair. My brow furrowed as I continued to tap the table with my fingers while waiting for the news. The higher-ups must've been on board with this. I'm certain of it.
I already expect the entire unit to be completely wiped out, but the worst-case scenario is that there are survivors. Living through such hell and surviving will ultimately leave them susceptible to Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which renders them unable to continue serving in the military. It will impede the military operation. Not to mention how challenging it would be if the survivor originated from a region other than the North.
I constantly ask myself what I would do if the survivor came from somewhere else. The second priority is keeping the area secured. First, I need to clear up the mess.
A soldier from another unit rushes into the tent, exclaiming, "General!" It appears that he is carrying some news. Every superior, including myself, pays meticulous attention to him.
"We have a survivor..." he spoke in a hopeful tone, oblivious of the superiors' true intentions.
Everyone was astonished, and their jaws fell. I notice the colour draining from their faces; they appear far more anxious than before.
I try hard not to sneer at their expression. "Lead the way. I'm going to see the survivor myself," I told the fellow soldier, leaving the other superiors in a panic. I follow the soldier to the medic tent. When I step inside, I recognise that guy instantly.
No wonder I experienced a burst of adrenaline earlier... "General, he suffered superficial wounds, and we already provided him with basic medical attention. But he won't stop weeping; we've expended every option."
The doctor offers to introduce me to the survivor, but I stop him promptly. I know who he is. Dark brown hair and blazing amber eyes. It's Theo Smith, the South's most recent private appointee.
"Doctor, please leave. I would like to speak with him, and I will do my best to calm him down in the process."
The doctor answers with a slight nod. He hardly complains; I believe he trusts me. He bows down and exits at the exact moment.
I grab a chair and sit next to the bed. I silently examine Theo Smith. He's trembling and weeping. He does not seem to be aware that he has been relocated. Far from the battlefield. This is not his first time at war; I'm wondering why I'm witnessing this reaction from him now.
Perhaps he hadn't witnessed a slaughter before. What an unfortunate soul. I'm unable to speak to him like this. I stand up and examine him twice before shielding his eyes with a cloth. This will at least lull him to sleep.
He may have a nightmare, but I can't do anything about it. I gaze at him before I leave with the oil lamp to ensure that the room is dark enough for him to sleep. I notify the doctor and order him to call me once Theo Smith is stable.
I just need to carry out one thing now...
It's time to call out those bloodsucking beings.