The first Danu/Red War pt.1

“Of all the truths that I’ve discovered in this life I lead, the biggest is this –

“Politicians only care about how people perceive them.

“Why else would this war have dragged on so long? Nobody wants to call an end to it, not because they think their cause is right or noble, but because they don’t want to lose face. They don’t want history to see them as failures, or even worse,” the grizzled veteran drained what was left of his drink, staring into the bottom of the glass as the froth seeped to the bottom. “They don’t want history to forget them.”

The mess hall was its usual cacophony, with the soldiers (most of whom were Northern draftees, but some few, like the veteran, were Northern volunteers from the early stages of the conflict) talking to anyone and no-one. The young draftee, Kayra, was wearing pristine fatigues, a sign of the inexperience to be expected tomorrow. The day before she had been with her classmates, her first squad, at the graduation ceremony in Loyr, the capital of this district; bright-eyed and in awe of the spectacle she had listened to the General as he espoused the virtues of the Danu cause. “We fight for freedom,” he had said. “We fight to protect the world from the Red threat.”

“Cock and bull,” the veteran had said when he first sat down. “Every blooming word of it.”

“Pardon?”

“That speech the brass gave yesterday. You’re a freshie, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I graduated yesterday. My name’s Kayra, assigned to…”

“I don’t wanna know,” he interrupted. “Chances are whatever outfit you’re in is gonna be a head or six lighter come tomorrow.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, sir, but”

“Don’t you bloomin’ start, blondie!” He almost spat the words out, barely holding onto his mouthful of stale bread. “One thing I can’t stand is political junk. They’re a bunch of liars and with the few hours you’ve got you better not start.”

Kayra sat, bemused by the soldier’s outburst and unsure how to respond. At the Academy, she had been conditioned to respect her superiors, and as a civilian she had heard the news tell of unspeakable evils being committed in the Northern towns by Red insurgents. The Governor of the Northern provinces had made an impassioned plea for any and all able-bodied youths, and she, like many in her hometown of Hemel, had signed up enthusiastically, willing to do their bit for the Danu nation. The last thing she had expected to hear was a dissenting view from one of the country’s own soldiers.

“Listen,” the veteran, noticing the bemusement on her face, finally said to break the silence. “Where’re you from?” She told him. “Ah, a Southerner. Can’t say I’m surprised, Pat said we’d be moving with you guys and he’s always right. Dunno how he does it, but he’s always been right. You ain’t seen the fighting yet, have you?”

“Yes, sir. We get the pictures broadcast from the Front.”

“No, you don’t,” he stabbed his fork into the grey meat in front of him. “Those pictures? The ones where Danu soldiers win easy? Do you know how old those things are?” She shook her head. “Eight months. I should know, I was there when they filmed them. Thought they were going to use them for strategy meetings, but there you go. Listen, freshie, those pictures you’ve seen? They don’t say anything about what’s going on at the Front now. They were a small skirmish when the Reds were just exploring, sending sorties, but now?” He pointed over to a nearby table, filled with other new recruits.

“Him, her, him and him – all gonna be dead in fifteen hours before we even get close to the real fighting.”

“You must be joking,” Kayra said, surprised by the veteran’s words and unable to resolve the conflict between what she had been taught and what she was hearing. “Yes, soldiers like us do die, but casualty rates aren’t that high and they’re getting smaller as we push the Reds back.”
“Push them back?” He laughed, beckoning a red-haired man with chiselled features over to join them. “Tom, listen to this blonde freshie will ya? She thinks we’ve been pushing the Reds back!”
“It’d be funny to me if she weren’t so cute,” Tom replied, taking in Kayra’s features. With her standard-issue beret beside her on the table, he was able to see her hair, soft and supple like velvet, tied in a loose bun, her porcelain neck exposed. She wasn’t overly muscular, although being so freshly graduated from the academy she still had the habit of sitting with a completely stiff back even though no commanding officer was around. Tracing her face, he saw that she wasn’t overly beautiful; her nose was slightly too small for her eyes, and her lips seemed thinner than the models who periodically visited the serving men or the prostitutes who more regularly frequented the camps; but she was cute, even if her round blue eyes seemed to not know what to make of the current conversation.

“Don’t mind Jed,” Tom continued. “Spend a bit of time here, and you’d be just as cynical. Although,” he sat down next to Kayra, “hopefully not as cantankerous.”

“You’re one to talk, Thomas,” Jed laughed, pushing his now empty tray away. “Besides, it’s realist.”

“OK – you’re a cantankerous realist,” Tom smiled. “Now, leave this nice young recruit alone, will you? She may not last to see another sunrise but that’s no excuse for scaring her with your politics.”

“Aye, fine,” Jed replied, half snorting. “I’ve got me weapon to clear out anyways. Just remember what I said, lass – forget everything those maggots in the offices said.”

Walking back to her block, Kayra reflected on the incident in the mess, and her conversation with Thomas. Not as blunt and direct as Jed (short for Jerid, she discovered), he was nevertheless just as strange for a soldier. He had been a student when the conflict started, studying mathematics and chemistry, but was drafted in his second year as the university was closed due to the intense fighting. He had told her of the early months of combat – in his first battle as an active soldier, his squad of six had been ordered to clear a building in the border city of Cannath. The mission was a success; “An easy one at first,” he said, a smile on his lips, “but when we were waiting for the back-up squad to arrive, the Reds started a counter-offensive, bombing the road back out of town and rolling a couple of tanks our way. We’d captured one of their soldiers to make them think nothing was wrong, had him man the radio, but I guess he’d told them what was going on. Or maybe they’d done a drone fly-over and saw us enter the building. Either way, Douglas – he was leading the squad – shot the guy in the head, heaved the body out the window, and ordered us to withdraw before we were completely cut off. At least I think he was going to say cut-off, a sniper got him at the window.” Kayra was shocked when Thomas laughed. “Guess he shouldn’t’ve dumped the body, huh?”

Suddenly, an explosion ripped through the barracks, debris scattering about as she heard a second explosion, and then a third. Someone shouted from a nearby block for help, as from other buildings orders were shouted – “Get your guns.” “Pinpoint their artillery.” “Get HQ on the line.” Kayra ran towards her block, fear gripping her by the throat, and she nearly tripped over a shard of heated metal, roofing that had been blown off during the first bombardment.

As she reached her block, she found Hyru, a fellow recruit, barking orders like an officer. “Get the fire under control! Don’t let it reach the armoury! Kayra, get under cover, quickly!” His grey, slanted eyes told her everything she needed to know. The unit commander who she had only met that afternoon, was dead, his blood on Hyru’s shirt; and Hyru, charismatic as he was, had immediately assumed command. “What happened to him?” she asked.

“Shrapnel through the skull,” he shouted back, kicking a nearby table across as she dived for cover, blocking the entrance to the block. “Coming from the Officer’s Mess. Get that fire under control!”

“We can’t!” came a shriek, as at the same time an explosion ripped the door to the courtyard off its hinges.

“Damn! Kayra, help with the armoury, get whatever you can carry and get out of here.”
“What about you?”

“I’m going to see what in the name of Balant is going on,” the nomad tribesman responded. “We can’t keep running around like ants from boiling water!”