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After the Battle of Leomold, most of the personnel were replaced or moved to the rear.
Soldiers in difficult-to-transport conditions and a small medical team from a field hospital remained on the front lines. Annette was one of them.
The fresh snow that had fallen last night crunched underfoot. Annette headed for the tent, her arms full of bedding.
Dried blood stains remained here and there at the entrances of the tents lined up in a row. In her hectic state, she hadn't even noticed them.
The walls and floors of the field hospital always emanated a mixture of blood, earth, and iron. The sight reminded her more of a slaughterhouse than a hospital. It was a vestige of a fierce battle.
During the battle, artillery fire destroyed two hospital facilities and killed seven medical personnel. This was considered relatively mild damage for a frontline field hospital.
Annette stepped inside the tent and began changing the sheets on the empty bed. Groans and coughs echoed here and there.
As she was changing the third sheet, a sleepy voice came from the bed next to her.
“...Over there... Water... Can I have some water...”
The soldier coughed before he could even finish his sentence. His voice was so rough and hoarse that it was hard to believe it was human.
Annette pulled back the curtain and identified the man. He was a new soldier who had inhaled poison gas in the trenches. They said he had removed his mask too quickly when the poison gas was released.
“Please wait a moment.”
She brought him a glass of water and poured it into his mouth little by little. The soldier drank it as if it were the water of life.
The soldier, who had been coughing hard, coughed violently again. A small, black piece of mucus from his mouth splashed onto Annette's cheek.
Annette wiped it away with the back of her hand. For days, he had been coughing up his burned lungs. The aftereffects of the poisonous gas left him blind.
The doctor said he would die soon.
“Cough, cough! Ugh, cough...!”
“Would you like some more water?”
The soldier, barely able to stop coughing, shook his head. Instead, he spoke with difficulty.
“Don’t go... Can you stay next to me?”
“I will do that.”
The soldier muttered something, apparently expressing gratitude.
This was possible because the battle was over. When mountains of wounded soldiers were brought in from the battlefield, there wasn't even time to provide proper treatment, so sometimes the doctors simply amputated the injured limbs.
“Shall I hold your hand?”
“Because I didn’t wash it...”
"It's okay."
The soldier didn't respond. When Annette took his hand, he took a deep breath and muttered softly.
“It’s soft.”
Annette's hands weren't soft at all. They were rough from washing dozens of sheets just today.
“Cough, cough, I’m sorry. Normally, this isn’t my voice...”
It was an unpleasant voice, like the creaking of rusty iron, but Annette held his hand with a slight squeeze, without any change in expression.
"It's okay."
“The people on the trenches took off their masks, so I thought it was okay... gasp.”
“You were unlucky. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Coo-hoo, don't...don't.”
The soldier seemed to be about to say something more, but his breathing was choked up.
“If it’s hard, you don’t have to say anything.”
"...go...."
“I won’t go and will stay here.”
Annette held his hand and told him how naive and foolish she had been when she first arrived, occasionally exaggerating.
As he listened to her story, the soldier occasionally smiled. It was hard to tell if it was laughter or pain, as his eyes were constantly squinting in pain, but a faint smile played on his lips.
“You...”
"Yes?"
"...this..."
The soldier continued to try to speak. His breathing was a hiss. Annette squinted her eyes, trying to read the shape of his lips.
Name.
His blackened lips asked. Annette took his hand with her free one. Then she whispered back.
“...Annette.”
The soldier's blurry eyes widened slightly. His mouth fell open. He muttered silently.
Oh, you...
After that conversation, the soldier's condition deteriorated rapidly. Annette held his hand for a long time, patting the back of it.
Tears welled up in the corners of the eyes of the soldier who coughed as if he were about to vomit out his organs. Tears streamed down his temples, where the arteries were swollen.
I miss my mother.
The soldier whispered, panting morbidly. Finally, he slowly closed his eyes. He was still breathing. It was unclear whether he was asleep or unconscious.
Annette stood there for a moment, then neatly placed the soldier's hand on his stomach and stood up. She had to finish the remaining work. She couldn't stay here any longer.
As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, she returned to the tent for the wounded, having finished her work. The tent was quiet, save for a few groans.
Annette pulled back the curtain and approached the soldier. Her hand paused for a moment as she saw his pale face.
The soldier remained in the same position as before, his eyes closed, peaceful. He was no longer coughing. There were no hoarse breaths or groans.
Annette checked his breathing and pulled the blanket up to his head.
“Annette!”
Annette, who was carrying a medical waste bag, turned around to see Ryan smiling brightly and waving at her.
“Are you cold? Do you want to come and warm yourself by the fire?”
Ryan was huddled with his colleagues, warming himself by the fire and smoking cigars. Annette shook her head.
“It’s okay. I have to go to work.”
"Are you going to throw it away? I'll help you. Let's go together."
Before Annette could respond, Ryan jumped to his feet. Those sitting with him chuckled. One of them gave him a meaningful slap on the butt.
Ryan kicked him roughly and ran towards Annette, panting.
“Give it to me.”
"It's okay."
“It looks really big. Give it to me quickly.”
Ryan snatched the envelope away. Annette, her hands empty in an instant, gave a bewildered thank you.
“Thank you. It must be heavy...”
“Wow, it’s heavy. Look, you can lift it with one hand.”
Ryan held an envelope in one hand and a cigar in the other. Annette looked up at him with a silent smile, and his earlobes flushed slightly.
Ryan, who was putting a cigar to his lips for no reason, suddenly gasped and took a deep breath.
“Right, you hate acting, right?”
“No, it’s okay...”
Before he could finish speaking, he tossed his cigar to the floor and extinguished it. Annette added softly.
“It’s really okay. I’m used to it.”
“What if you get used to this kind of thing?”
“I’m getting used to the smell of blood, but this is something else.”
“Really? You’re completely used to the smell of blood?”
“...Actually, not completely.”
Ryan laughed, haha.
"Still, Annette is amazing. I was a soldier to begin with, but Annette was far from that."
"I was probably the slowest to adapt. At first, I vomited the moment I saw blood."
“Oh, of course, that could happen. You’ve always lived a noble life.”
Annette, slightly embarrassed, simply let out an awkward laugh. She knew Ryan wasn't trying to be sarcastic or sarcastic. He was a straightforward and honest person.
In fact, Ryan was the one who treated her with the least amount of awkwardness. Everyone, including her fellow nurses, found her difficult. Even the officers were the same.
It wasn't that they were harassing her or anything. It was simply that her previous status was still her status, and the distance she felt as the Commander-in-Chief's former wife was immense.
Rank was absolute within the military, especially for those at the top of the Padanian military chain of command.
Even though the Commander-in-Chief was a renowned figure known for his fairness and justice, and the couple divorced due to discord, it was impossible to know what would happen. Annette understood their feelings well.
“By the way, Annette, aren’t you planning on moving to the rear?”
...This sergeant was a little strange.
Annette touched her frozen hands, pondered for a moment, and then answered briefly.
“Shouldn’t I go if necessary?”
"Of course, the front lines are where manpower is needed. I asked for your opinion."
“What will Ryan do?”
"I'm in a situation where I have to do whatever I'm told. I wonder if I'll be replaced by the next unit... The orders from my superiors are so unpredictable."
“Let’s go to the rear.”
“Oh, you want to break up with me quickly?”
“Yes? No, no, that’s not it. I’m telling you to hurry and go somewhere safe...”
“I know, I know.”
Ryan laughed out loud, wondering what was so funny. He noticed Annette's slightly bewildered expression and cleared his throat.
“...There’ll be another battle here soon. Will you be here then?”
“If you need me.”
"If I look closely, Annette doesn't seem to have any opinions of your own. You could have supported us from the rear if you wanted. Do you want to stay here?"
"...I am..."
Annette answered hesitantly, her voice trailing off.
“Maybe... yes.”
“Why? It’s dangerous here.”
Ryan asked innocently. Annette licked her lips, then stared blankly at him. It was such a trivial question, but she couldn't remember the reason.
Yeah, why is that?
Why does she want to remain on the front lines?
Soldiers in difficult-to-transport conditions and a small medical team from a field hospital remained on the front lines. Annette was one of them.
The fresh snow that had fallen last night crunched underfoot. Annette headed for the tent, her arms full of bedding.
Dried blood stains remained here and there at the entrances of the tents lined up in a row. In her hectic state, she hadn't even noticed them.
The walls and floors of the field hospital always emanated a mixture of blood, earth, and iron. The sight reminded her more of a slaughterhouse than a hospital. It was a vestige of a fierce battle.
During the battle, artillery fire destroyed two hospital facilities and killed seven medical personnel. This was considered relatively mild damage for a frontline field hospital.
Annette stepped inside the tent and began changing the sheets on the empty bed. Groans and coughs echoed here and there.
As she was changing the third sheet, a sleepy voice came from the bed next to her.
“...Over there... Water... Can I have some water...”
The soldier coughed before he could even finish his sentence. His voice was so rough and hoarse that it was hard to believe it was human.
Annette pulled back the curtain and identified the man. He was a new soldier who had inhaled poison gas in the trenches. They said he had removed his mask too quickly when the poison gas was released.
“Please wait a moment.”
She brought him a glass of water and poured it into his mouth little by little. The soldier drank it as if it were the water of life.
The soldier, who had been coughing hard, coughed violently again. A small, black piece of mucus from his mouth splashed onto Annette's cheek.
Annette wiped it away with the back of her hand. For days, he had been coughing up his burned lungs. The aftereffects of the poisonous gas left him blind.
The doctor said he would die soon.
“Cough, cough! Ugh, cough...!”
“Would you like some more water?”
The soldier, barely able to stop coughing, shook his head. Instead, he spoke with difficulty.
“Don’t go... Can you stay next to me?”
“I will do that.”
The soldier muttered something, apparently expressing gratitude.
This was possible because the battle was over. When mountains of wounded soldiers were brought in from the battlefield, there wasn't even time to provide proper treatment, so sometimes the doctors simply amputated the injured limbs.
“Shall I hold your hand?”
“Because I didn’t wash it...”
"It's okay."
The soldier didn't respond. When Annette took his hand, he took a deep breath and muttered softly.
“It’s soft.”
Annette's hands weren't soft at all. They were rough from washing dozens of sheets just today.
“Cough, cough, I’m sorry. Normally, this isn’t my voice...”
It was an unpleasant voice, like the creaking of rusty iron, but Annette held his hand with a slight squeeze, without any change in expression.
"It's okay."
“The people on the trenches took off their masks, so I thought it was okay... gasp.”
“You were unlucky. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Coo-hoo, don't...don't.”
The soldier seemed to be about to say something more, but his breathing was choked up.
“If it’s hard, you don’t have to say anything.”
"...go...."
“I won’t go and will stay here.”
Annette held his hand and told him how naive and foolish she had been when she first arrived, occasionally exaggerating.
As he listened to her story, the soldier occasionally smiled. It was hard to tell if it was laughter or pain, as his eyes were constantly squinting in pain, but a faint smile played on his lips.
“You...”
"Yes?"
"...this..."
The soldier continued to try to speak. His breathing was a hiss. Annette squinted her eyes, trying to read the shape of his lips.
Name.
His blackened lips asked. Annette took his hand with her free one. Then she whispered back.
“...Annette.”
The soldier's blurry eyes widened slightly. His mouth fell open. He muttered silently.
Oh, you...
After that conversation, the soldier's condition deteriorated rapidly. Annette held his hand for a long time, patting the back of it.
Tears welled up in the corners of the eyes of the soldier who coughed as if he were about to vomit out his organs. Tears streamed down his temples, where the arteries were swollen.
I miss my mother.
The soldier whispered, panting morbidly. Finally, he slowly closed his eyes. He was still breathing. It was unclear whether he was asleep or unconscious.
Annette stood there for a moment, then neatly placed the soldier's hand on his stomach and stood up. She had to finish the remaining work. She couldn't stay here any longer.
As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, she returned to the tent for the wounded, having finished her work. The tent was quiet, save for a few groans.
Annette pulled back the curtain and approached the soldier. Her hand paused for a moment as she saw his pale face.
The soldier remained in the same position as before, his eyes closed, peaceful. He was no longer coughing. There were no hoarse breaths or groans.
Annette checked his breathing and pulled the blanket up to his head.
***
“Annette!”
Annette, who was carrying a medical waste bag, turned around to see Ryan smiling brightly and waving at her.
“Are you cold? Do you want to come and warm yourself by the fire?”
Ryan was huddled with his colleagues, warming himself by the fire and smoking cigars. Annette shook her head.
“It’s okay. I have to go to work.”
"Are you going to throw it away? I'll help you. Let's go together."
Before Annette could respond, Ryan jumped to his feet. Those sitting with him chuckled. One of them gave him a meaningful slap on the butt.
Ryan kicked him roughly and ran towards Annette, panting.
“Give it to me.”
"It's okay."
“It looks really big. Give it to me quickly.”
Ryan snatched the envelope away. Annette, her hands empty in an instant, gave a bewildered thank you.
“Thank you. It must be heavy...”
“Wow, it’s heavy. Look, you can lift it with one hand.”
Ryan held an envelope in one hand and a cigar in the other. Annette looked up at him with a silent smile, and his earlobes flushed slightly.
Ryan, who was putting a cigar to his lips for no reason, suddenly gasped and took a deep breath.
“Right, you hate acting, right?”
“No, it’s okay...”
Before he could finish speaking, he tossed his cigar to the floor and extinguished it. Annette added softly.
“It’s really okay. I’m used to it.”
“What if you get used to this kind of thing?”
“I’m getting used to the smell of blood, but this is something else.”
“Really? You’re completely used to the smell of blood?”
“...Actually, not completely.”
Ryan laughed, haha.
"Still, Annette is amazing. I was a soldier to begin with, but Annette was far from that."
"I was probably the slowest to adapt. At first, I vomited the moment I saw blood."
“Oh, of course, that could happen. You’ve always lived a noble life.”
Annette, slightly embarrassed, simply let out an awkward laugh. She knew Ryan wasn't trying to be sarcastic or sarcastic. He was a straightforward and honest person.
In fact, Ryan was the one who treated her with the least amount of awkwardness. Everyone, including her fellow nurses, found her difficult. Even the officers were the same.
It wasn't that they were harassing her or anything. It was simply that her previous status was still her status, and the distance she felt as the Commander-in-Chief's former wife was immense.
Rank was absolute within the military, especially for those at the top of the Padanian military chain of command.
Even though the Commander-in-Chief was a renowned figure known for his fairness and justice, and the couple divorced due to discord, it was impossible to know what would happen. Annette understood their feelings well.
“By the way, Annette, aren’t you planning on moving to the rear?”
...This sergeant was a little strange.
Annette touched her frozen hands, pondered for a moment, and then answered briefly.
“Shouldn’t I go if necessary?”
"Of course, the front lines are where manpower is needed. I asked for your opinion."
“What will Ryan do?”
"I'm in a situation where I have to do whatever I'm told. I wonder if I'll be replaced by the next unit... The orders from my superiors are so unpredictable."
“Let’s go to the rear.”
“Oh, you want to break up with me quickly?”
“Yes? No, no, that’s not it. I’m telling you to hurry and go somewhere safe...”
“I know, I know.”
Ryan laughed out loud, wondering what was so funny. He noticed Annette's slightly bewildered expression and cleared his throat.
“...There’ll be another battle here soon. Will you be here then?”
“If you need me.”
"If I look closely, Annette doesn't seem to have any opinions of your own. You could have supported us from the rear if you wanted. Do you want to stay here?"
"...I am..."
Annette answered hesitantly, her voice trailing off.
“Maybe... yes.”
“Why? It’s dangerous here.”
Ryan asked innocently. Annette licked her lips, then stared blankly at him. It was such a trivial question, but she couldn't remember the reason.
Yeah, why is that?
Why does she want to remain on the front lines?
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