12 Chapter: 12 Assignment

The Major leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to puff on his cigar before responding to Helen's question. His gaze flickered to Captain Duval briefly and he seemed to ponder for a moment before returning to Helen,

"Ah, yes. Aside from those primary responsibilities, there are a few other things you should be aware of, Lieutenant,"

He began, his voice low and thoughtful,

"There's always more to be aware of on the Western Front. We're operating in a volatile and constantly changing environment, and therefore, it's imperative that we maintain a very high level of vigilance at all times. There is every possibility that the enemy's artillery might rain down upon us, and we must be prepared to evacuate at a moment's notice.

Helen nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. The Western Front was, as she had learned in history lessons and from her own new memories, a very volatile and very dangerous place indeed. With the constant threat of German bombardment and repeated sabotage looming over the Allied forces or rather only the American Expeditionary Forces since they were well out of their depths with the European trench warfare. 

"As such,"

The Major continued,

"I expect all officers under my command to remain alert and proactive in their duties. We cannot afford to let our guard down for even a moment, as the consequences could be dire."

Helen listened intently, committing the Major's words to memory as she mentally prepared herself for the challenges ahead.

"Understood, Major,"

She replied with a firm nod, and there was a light shining within her eyes, she always wanted to club someone's head in with a trench shovel but those were scarce and pricy antiques in her past life, now however, those were common chunks of flesh strewn across Dressing station.

"Good,"

The Major said with a satisfied nod,

"I have every confidence that you will carry out your duties with diligence and professionalism, Lieutenant Bacchus."

Helen strained a smile,

"Thank you, Major. I won't let you down."

With that last assurance, Helen straightened her posture and made her way out of the tent.

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Once Helen had vacated the tent, an awful silence fell upon its occupants. The Captain, who had been keeping a rather keen eye on Helen, smirked and turned to look at the Major,

"So, what do you think?"

The Major took a puff from his well-lit and deceptively expensive cigar,

"About what?"

Captain Duval chuckled out loud,

"Why, about the new Lieutenant of course. She's of... a most peculiar breed of Yankees isn't she?"

Major Maximilian ignored her words, keeping her eyes fixed on his Cigar, taking a long puff from it before letting the ash fall on the cold hard floor. 

As the ash fell from the Major's cigar, he finally spoke, his tone sharp,

"No!"

The Captain's smile faltered slightly at the Major's terse reproach, sensing his reluctance to continue with the conversation about the young Lieutenant. She shifted in her seat, glancing once more at the flap of the tent,

"She seems capable enough,"

She offered in a tone overflowing with false caution and respect, her tone rather overly friendly. 

The Major grunted in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he continued to puff on his cigar. After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke again, his voice low and serious,

"You know perfectly well what I mean Luce. Now if she was one of our own or perhaps a simple private... I won't be stopping you. But she's a bloody Lieutenant! From an influential American family no less! So please,

He turned to look at her,

"So please, for god's sake, don't go around playing your usual game of hit and run."

The Captain's smile widened at the Major's admonition, a mischievous spark in her snake-like mint-green eyes,

"My dear Reggie, whatever do you mean?"

She feigned innocence, though it was quite clear from her twinkling eyes that she was well deserving of her reputation for dalliances with junior officers.

The Major sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Luce, you know exactly what I mean. I don't want any conflict just because you are feeling bored. I won't have you causing unnecessary complications now that the war has reached a critical point."

After a moment of contemplation, she nodded in understanding, her demeanor shifted slightly to rather reluctant compliance,

"I understand, Reggie, you won't be hearing any complaints about me... I'll tread lightly, I promise."

The Major groaned in acknowledgment of her fake acceptance of his reproach. He took another puff of his cigar, more so as a sedative than as a luxury,

"Dear god..."

*^*^*^*

Helen tried to march as steadily as she could, but, well...

'Fuck!'

Too many tasks and too little time would do that to just about anyone. Internally, Ghost chortled,

'Intriguing, wouldn't you say?'

His voice echoed in her ears.

'Yeah, yeah. Intriguing my arse!'

She picked up her pace, almost to a sprint, and made her way back to her tent. 

{In all honesty, I do think you have a rather intriguing arse.}

Buzzed the interface's voice,

'Thanks, now shut up. I am thinking.'

Entering her tent, she took a moment to collect herself, pushing aside the two voices in her head. She needed to prioritize her tasks and start formulating a plan of action if she was going to fulfill her duties.

Sitting down at her new makeshift desk, Helen retrieved a worn diary and pencil from her bag. With steady hands, she shaved the pencil using a bayonet and began jotting down a list of tasks, organizing them into categories based on urgency and importance.

First and foremost, she needed to familiarize herself with the layout of the dressing camp and establish a clear line of communication with her new Platoon and other officers. She made a note of all that she knew about the camp's situation and... well... the page was entirely blank.

'Oh...'

Next, she needed to assess the current inventory of medical supplies and equipment, to ensure that everything was accounted for and in good condition... and get on the bad book of every single quartermaster in the entire Allied army. Every single officer needs to coordinate with the quartermaster to request additional supplies to keep their subordinates well-equipped... and preferably alive. 

'Right...'

Additionally, she needed to learn the protocols for casualty evacuation and transportation, and how to ensure that injured soldiers received prompt and proper care... which would include studying all the codes involving coordination with the field hospital and scouting regiments' guide to streamline the evacuation process. 

'Great...'

Finally, she would need to maintain constant vigilance and readiness, keeping a close eye on the enemy's artillery bombardment ranges. No telling when an artillery shell would crash into a camp full of freshly bandaged soldiers... ruining a whole week's worth of doctors' hard work. 

Helen scanned her scribbled list one last time - Familiarize herself with the damned camp, make friends with some god damned grumpy supply sergeant, dodge artillery fire... definitely on the top of the 'not looking forward to' list.

'Alright,'

She muttered internally, shoving the near-useless list aside,

'It's just the first world war, what's the worst that could happen?'

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