by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
The contest for Silk Mountain was not yet settled, but it was evident to High Command that the battle was going in their favor, the 9th regiment line of defenses pushing the enemy back to the edge of the flooded plain. Alba was in command of the 9th at the moment, the colonel having just been taken from the field, wounded. The major and other captains were also either dead or wounded, leaving her the highest-ranking regimental officer.
With added reinforcements, Alba had in her charge just over eighteen hundred remaining officers and enlisted, two hundred of which were displaced Marines. Half the regiment was down. The dead were lying scattered across the landscape. And now snow was beginning to fall.
Sitting up on the ridge in the colonel’s old headquarters, Alba issued new orders and tended to needed business. She had only lieutenants and sergeants commanding the troops. Sometimes a corporal would be directing what remained of several platoons. Kfir assisted the captain as best he could. A bullet had shattered his lower left arm, but he refused to leave the field, accepting the little medical care available before going back to his duties.
About this time, the communications operator reported a message newly arrived from General Winehardt sent through the brigade commander. It read, ‘Press the enemy into the swamp and drive them’.
Alba groaned. “We cannot do such a thing! Kfir, if I order my people forward, half will die from the cold and wet. In good conscience, I can’t do such a thing!”
Kfir agreed, cautioning, “This is a direct order. If you disobey, you could be brought up on charges for insubordination.”
Alba scowled. “So what will they do to me, shoot me? No, I don’t think they would do me the favor!” She snapped her fingers, adding sarcastically, “I have it! They’d make me stay here and suffer. The bastards! I’m so afraid...”
She finally decided on a reply. “Corporal, send this message to the good general: ‘We shall advance when practicable.’”
The corporal hesitated, finally replying, “Yes...yes, ma’am. Yes, Captain.” He hurriedly sent the communique.
About three minutes later there came a reply. Alba took the scribbled note and slumped in relief. The note read, ‘Advance when practicable’. Alba got up and exited the tattered command tent to look over the hastily constructed battlement. Tears welled up in her eyes as she scanned the bloodied hills. Kfir quietly stood next to her staring into the distance.
He finally tapped the captain on the shoulder and pointed. “See there? I think the sky shall determine the future fighting this day. The sun is setting and there is a heavy snow advancing from the west. Maybe the Cherubs have become tired of the slaughter and need a rest.”
Alba began to cry on Kfir’s chest.