The Last Journey Before The End Of The World By D I Jolly
“Well, according to Sarge.’ Said Jenkins between sips of coffee, ‘He used to be some kind of famous artist.”
“Bullshit.” “No way.” “Oh, come on!”
Came the voices of his fellow privates.
“That’s what the Sarge told me.’ Insisted Jenkins, ‘He apparently had a real knack for spotting trends and knowing what people would like, and a real good eye for detail. And then… the war started. Sarge said that in the first few months the war had taken everything from him, except the war, and that he turned his knack for trends and people and his eye for detail towards the enemy and just arrived one day with a battle plan, and that’s what gave us the victory at Smile Ridge.”
The other soldiers looked at Jenkins with a bit more interest. It was no secret that Jenkins and Sergeant Ironsides had some kind of a bond, and that Jenkins would never in a million years lie about anything Ironsides said.
“The Sarge says he’s seen him fighting, like on the actual battlefield. Says the safest and most dangerous place is by his side. Because while he is probably the most skilled fighter there, he fights like a man looking for someone to beat him. Like a man who is looking for a good death.”
Jenkins took another sip of coffee and felt the weight of his own words, and really considered the story again. It had always been one that had stayed with him, and made him wonder what he would do if he didn’t have his mom and brother at home, if he didn’t have someone and a place to fight for.
The other soldiers also sat considering the story, then slowly turned to look at the man in question. Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Hockney was a little bit over six foot tall with broad shoulders, mouse brown hair cut military short, and grey green eyes that seemed to be perpetually locked into the middle-distance. His uniform was crisp and neat and despite being in the mess hall, he had a pistol on one hip, a sword on the other and a rifle strapped tight across his back. He sat at a table with other high-ranking officers and very rarely spoke, but when he did, everyone listened.
“I think they’re going to expect us to do that. At this point they probably expect us to expect them to expect us and so on. I think if we really want to surprise them, we should either run straight at them in the middle of breakfast, or retreat in the middle of the night. No matter which way we play it, they’ll be expecting a military minded plan. So, if we want to remain a mystery, we need to do something non-military. Actually, I’d suggest we do the latter, if we abandon this position under cover of total darkness, they’ll keep themselves under siege simply out of fear, believing that we’re hiding something, that it’s some kind of a trap to lure them out. They’ll knuckled down even harder trying to get information about where we are, and while they’re doing that, we rest the troops, and recover our supplies, and let them punish themselves. Then just before it’s discovered that we simply left. We send word to Delta in Westbay and tell them to do the same thing, only they leave behind some kind of explosive trap. Word will spread that something strange is happening, and when it’s discovered that we actually just abandoned the siege, the enemy at Westbay will move with confidence and be punished for it.”
Hockney thought for a moment more, then nodded to confirm that he had finished speaking, and turned his stare back out into the room away from the conversation. His gaze swept the room until it came to rest on Private Jenkins.
The others at the table stared at Hockney for a moment, then turned to look at each other as they came to see the potential in the plan. Then, almost at once, they all rose and went to work. If it worked and they could actually rest and restock their forces while the enemy affectively sieged themselves, then pull another force back for restock and deal a blow to the enemy at the same time. Even if the blow was small, the knock in confidence could be enough to turn the tide back to their favour.
Jenkins turned to look at what his fellow soldiers were looking at and found Hockney staring at him. The intense and strange weight of the stare sent a cold shiver over Jenkin’s body and he suddenly wondered if he’d been selected for some kind of special mission, or posting. Or if maybe he’d made some mistake that he wasn’t aware of and was going to be kicked out of the army. His mind flashed with a strange sense of delight and dread at the thought of what he’d do if he rejoined civilian life. Then he blinked and saw Hockney let out a breath, stand and leave the mess hall, taking Jenkin’s hopes and fears with him.
A few hours later Sergeant Ironsides gave them their orders.
“We’re pulling back all the way to Campbell Harbour for as much R’n’R as we can get. But it all hinges on us getting gone as quickly and quietly as possible. We aren’t even taking everything with us, just pack up your own stuff, as much as you can carry. Start with what’s important, and only pack personal after that. Then we wait for the go ahead and we get gone.”
“Holy shit Sarge.’ Said Private Tilman, ‘What the fuck is going on here sir? This sounds too good to be true.”
Ironsides cracked his neck and let out a breath.
“Truth be told, I have no idea. It’s some dramatic new strategy, I don’t even think it’s classified, just super short notice. Either way, we need to get ready asap so that when the call comes, we can get gone.”
The soldiers all glanced at each other a little shocked, then turned to their sergeant and said in a unified whisper.
“Sir, yes sir.”
By the time the sun had risen on the next day they had all made it to the rendezvous point where they’d been collected by a series of civilian transports and were on their way to Campbell’s. Jenkins lucked out by being a little slow and ended up on the second to last transport with only 4 other people. He’d over stuffed his bag and it weighed more than most, which had caused him problems and once he was loaded in, he lay down on a row of seats, which he had to himself and fell asleep.
He woke up to an ache in his shoulders where his pack straps had dug in, and the grey green eyes of Hockney staring at him again. Jenkins quickly sat up, wincing as he did, and managed to say,
“Hello sir, sorry sir.”
And to his surprise was met with an almost friendly smile and placating hand.
“It’s alright private, I was just checking to see if you were ok. We’ve gotten reports of some soldiers experiencing breakdowns. The release of stress and the promise of rest often does that to people.”
“Oh’ said Jenkins slightly confused and still blurry from his nap, ‘Thank you sir, I’m… I think I’m alright just a bit tired from the hike.”
Hockney smiled again and tilted his head to the side considering Jenkins.
“Where are you from private?”
“I’m from District D, sir.”
“Like Ironsides, that makes sense. You know, I think he really likes you.”
Jenkins smiled like a child being told that his distant parent had paid him a compliment.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You have a family back in D?”
“Yes sir, my mom and my brother.”
Hockney nodded thoughtfully.
“You see them often?”
Jenkin’s voice grew a little distant as he thought about them and said, “not since I enlisted.’ Then after a moment added, ‘Sir.”
Hockney’s distant eyes suddenly focused in on Jenkins and grow brighter.
“Not even in your dreams?”
Jenkin’s swallowed and felt himself tighten under the gaze.
“N….no sir.”
“What do you dream about, Private?”
Jenkin’s swallowed again feeling very unsure of his situation, but he also heard Ironside’s voice in his head telling him to always tell the truth, no matter the situation. ‘Because while lies might get you out of trouble in the moment, they’ll get you in more trouble in the long run.’
“Sex, sometimes… Sometimes I dream about big empty cities and I’m lost, or looking for someone… But ummm… Mostly I dream about battles I’ve been in, and lost… and … lost companions, friends. Never the wins though, always the losses.”
Hockney focused his gaze on Jenkins a little longer, then turned away, his stare returning to its usual distant look and a faint smile came back to his face.
“Funny that, isn’t it? We all always seem to dream about the things we’ve lost, and never about the things we still have. I also dream about the things I’ve lost to this war.’ Hockney let out a long breath and rested his head against the side of the transport. ‘Try to get some more sleep Private, we’ve got a long way still to go. And if you show up able and ready to help, I’m sure Ironsides will be impressed with you.”
Jenkins smiled again, only more nervously now, but did as he was told and lay back down. His mind wandered to his family, to his mom and his brother, to his friends in school and his favourite teachers. Then, as he began to fall back to sleep, he remembered his friends from basic, and the battle of Leaf Valley, and the price of bad ideas in a war.
Jenkins spent most of the drive either sleeping or pretending to sleep, hoping to avoid another conversation with Hockney. But when they arrived, he politely and professionally thanked him, saluted and went off to find Ironsides, who was pleased to see someone able bodied and well rested enough to be useful. He put his things away, then helped others do the same. Then, slowly, one by one, everyone began to relax, and to crumble. One by one everyone got sick, and were put on bed rest, and before anyone knew it, five days had gone by. On the seventh day Jenkins found Ironsides sitting in the harbour canteen with a bottle of whiskey and a cigar.
“Mind if I join you, sir?”
“Only if you can keep up.”
Ironsides slid a glass across the table and half-filled it.
Jenkins looked at the glass then back up at his sergeant.
“Is everything ok, sir?”
Ironsides lifted his own glass and waited. Jenkins quickly sat down, picked up his glass and watched his Sergeant down his, then with a wince and a shiver he did the same.
“The plan worked, you know.” Said Ironsides after a minute.
“What’s that sir?”
“It worked, the enemy stayed in their fortress for 4 days waiting. Then the guys at Westbay pulled the same disappearing act, and last night after the first all clear was sounded, the enemy at Westbay sprung our trap and it wiped out two thirds of their forces there.”
Jenkin’s eyes grew wide and he got halfway through a smile before he stopped, and looked around. The canteen was mostly empty, except for a few higher ups all in similar states to Ironsides, and two small groups of grunts simply drinking and talking like nothing had happened. Jenkin’s then turned back to his sergeant.
“What’s the matter, sir?”
Ironsides poured them each another drink, but didn’t hold it up this time, he just took a sip and looked down at the table.
“It’s classified and I’m telling you this in confidence, if this gets out, we’ll both be court-martialled, do you understand?”
Jenkins stared for a moment then took another shivering sip of whiskey.
“Sir, yes sir.”
“The enemy didn’t take to the trap so well. We’ve been working on cutting communications and restricting news to the bases until everyone is recovered enough. Until we can deliver a single unified message. But… basically… District C and D are gone.’ Ironsides looked up at Jenkins and put a hand on his shoulder both for, and to give support. ‘Estimated casualties 100%.”
Jenkins felt the words wash over him like a wave and it took him a moment before it felt like he could get his head above them to gasp in a breath. Ironsides felt Jenkin’s body tense and twitch and he locked his hand to hold him in place.
“Eyes on me son. Eyes on me.’ Ironsides held him in place watching the play of emotions run across Jenkins face and body then said, ‘Take another sip, it’ll help steady you. Come on, I’m right here with you boy. I’m in the same boat. If I can, so can you.”
Ironsides lifted his glass with his spare hand and again encouraged Jenkins to do the same, and after a moment he did. They clinked glasses and while Ironsides just took a sip, Jenkins drained his glass.
“What… What do we do now… Sir?”
Ironsides watched him for a second longer, then slowly took his hand off his shoulder and reached for his cigars. He cut the end off of a fresh one, lit it and handed it to Jenkins.
“We rest, and we recuperate, and we keep it to ourselves. We get drunk, we tell jokes and we keep it to ourselves. And then, once news breaks… We burn the fucking world down.”