Chapter 2: Chapter 2: The General

Marge sensed the tactics the Minister was planning to use. She had been in this office before. Nodding her head politely, she said, “I would prefer to stand, Minister. I honestly hope this will not take very long.”

“Very well. In that case, both of your companions can stand out, because I think this must be personal.”

Both Harvey and Bancroft turned to her, and she gave them a small nod. They exited.

“Now, down to business, General. What is it you want of me?”

“I have heard, Minister, that you plan to release an official public statement regarding the border conflict.”

“You heard it right.”

“And it will also concern the deployment of troops to Barbonia for the Civil War.”

“Yes, that is also true.”

“You plan to say that the military ordered and was responsible for said deployment.”

“That is true as well. I don’t plan to blame the whole military department, though, because that will seem implausible.” The man was still smiling widely as if he was reciting a casual story. “I plan to lay the blame on one person, who has quite a lot of traction amongst the military and holds a high post in the department.”

“Who may that be?” She asked, although deep down, she already knew who it was.

“You, General. You.”

Refusing to lose her composure, she spoke. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“It does not matter, my dear. People must have trust in their government, and they must not panic. I, as the Minister, know what is best for this country, and I owe no justification to you. It must be done. Do you have anything else?”

She ran it over for a second, and replied, “No.” He wasn’t changing his mind.

“Well then, you may run along now. I hope you can deal with the conflict.”

Without replying, she simply walked out. Harvey and Bancroft were standing there. They didn’t need to ask: her face said all that needed to be said.

“We’re going ahead with it,” she said, as they walked out. “We’ll have to handle the war and get the truth out.”

“I’ve got news for you,” Harvey said. “He’s already broadcasted the message for the people, blaming you for the conflict and saying that you were responsible for sending troops, wasting money on the Civil War, and possibly starting a war with Barbonia. The people standing in here in the afternoon were broadcasting men. They did the job.”

“Oh God,” she muttered.

“You can’t go out there,” Bancroft said. “I got a call from one of the Commanders. They’re after you. If they see you, they’ll lynch you. Some of the people are protecting them. How do we leave?”

Marge’s thoughts raced for a second. She turned to Harvey, who was worried. Their son was with his brother. However, they lived in a more remote area, so it probably would not be an issue. She spoke.

“We’re taking the car and going. It’s armored anyways, so no one will be able to get to us.”

They sat in the car, Marge taking over the driving seat.

“We’ll go straight to the helipad, and back to Gradondam. From there, we’ll go ahead.”

Edna and Edith sat on the sofa as their mother paced the room, deep in thought. The suspense was killing both of them. She had entered, and at the dining table, her older daughter had broken the news to her. She initially choked on her water but didn’t say a word after that. And that had led them to sit on the couch waiting for her to say something, or at least show some emotion. But all she did was pace back and forth, thinking. Edith reached over and squeezed her younger sister’s hand as a gesture of reassurance, and Edna nodded in response.

Finally, Anna turned around and faced her daughters, both of whose eyes immediately turned to her. She spoke.

“I honestly don’t know what to say, really. This is a big bomb you’ve dropped on me here. But I’ve thought it over for a while, and what I’ve decided to say, is that Edna, you can do this. I have no right to tie you down and hold you back, and you have to live your life. So, my darling,” she said, kneeling in front of her younger child whose eyes were wet, “You have my blessing and best of luck.” She hugged and kissed her. Edith joined in, and they had a group hug before they broke apart. Edna spoke first.

“Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.”

“It’s alright, honey. And now,” she said, sitting down on the sofa, “Have you managed the other things? Your property, the house, and all?”

“They have a new correspondent, no experience because both correspondents are off covering Vietnam. Her name is Edna Garson, and she’s been trained as a war correspondent. She’s the sister of Commander Edith Garson of Battalion 143. What do you think?”

Marge had been sitting in her chair, intently listening to her deputy’s report as the wind blew by in the mountains. They were at the Military Base at Walterdam, not very far from Gradondam. She nodded and leaned back.

“It’ll do. Commander Garson is pretty good, and if she’s trained we shouldn’t have any issues with this. Tell them it’ll work, Bancroft. You’ll be going to receive them?”

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“I will. I’m going to be taking two of the new batch students with me.”

“Which ones?”

“Evans and Grayson.”

“Those two? They’re really good, I bet you anything they’re going to go real far in this place.”

“I hope so. They’re very loyal to each other, they couldn’t be closer if they were siblings.”

The General sighed and leaned on her desk, running her palm through her hair.

“Which battalions are going to be here?”

“135, 143 and 145.”

“Good. Bring the correspondent and the cameraman straight here. Where’s Harvey?”

“He’s supervising the preparations of the equipment for the camp.”

Marge stood up, opened the curtains, and looked out of the window. It was sunny out there, and the view was quite picturesque, with the green hills and the grey mountains visible at a distance. Far away from the cities. As much as she loved this country, there were times when her loyalty was put to grueling tests.

“I’ll have to go,” Bancroft spoke from behind. “You’re okay, right?”

She turned to face her pupil and smiled. “I’m fine, kiddo. You run along.”

Bancroft nodded and walked out. She watched her walk off and then sat down in her chair with a sigh. Once things had calmed down and the people had been able to let off a bit of steam, she would release a public statement with evidence to back it. Her thoughts turned to her 13-year-old son. She had sent a letter to Harvey’s brother, asking him how he was and whether any of this was affecting him. And she received a reply as well. The children at his school were tormenting him, and he’d got into a fight with one of them. Someone had thrown a brick through the window at night.

From the public’s viewpoint, their anger was justified. The money wasted in sending troops and supplies to Barbonia had caused an economic slump. Many people had been forcefully recruited to fight in the war, without any physical or mental preparation, and had returned with mental and physical scars. Many had either died or were suffering from severe war-related trauma. In some places, there was forced recruitment.

Naturally, there was a lot of public outrage. She had asked the Minister to stop this, but he refused and installed his own minions to take over the tasks. She had absolutely no say in the matter, except to try to help the new soldiers and keep them safe while at the same time fighting a losing war. She didn’t want them there, as it helped no one. Neither them nor her or any of the experienced fighters on the field.

And now, the blame was being shoved on her. She honestly wanted to strangle Buckhoff, but that was one desire that would be a fantasy until some miracle occurred. She was no stranger to self-control anyhow. But she would get back at him for this. Oh, he was going to get what was coming to him alright.

She sat down in her chair, resting her elbows on the table and placing her face in her palms as her memory took her back to a time during the war.

Marge shot from where she had taken cover behind a rock, killing one of the enemy soldiers. Then she reached her arm out and grabbed one of the rookie soldiers by his collar, dragging him behind the rock. The boy yelped as his first instinct was to fight her off, and he struggled with her for a few seconds before stopping. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, but I-“

“I know,” She cut him off mid-sentence. “We don’t have time. Come on.”

She spoke into the mouthpiece. “Retreat, all of you. Now. Into the trees, and stay low.”

As they crawled into the forest, she could see that they were not in fighting condition. Someone was moaning from a broken ankle, someone was crying over a twisted shoulder. They should never have been here. Once they were at a safe distance, she spoke to them.

“We’re going back, boys. This area can’t be won, and we have to go back to camp. We-“

“General Cartwright, why are you demotivating the boys?”

She cursed internally as she heard the voice of General Barnstein, one of the Bukhoff minions. She turned to him. “I’m not demotivating them. The only thing they can achieve by going in there is useless death.”

“Well, they joined the force, they know what they’re in for. Boys, Cartwright here thinks you’re cowards. Prove her wrong!”

The boys stood there apprehensively, looking from one General to the other.

“GO BACK THERE, YOU FOOLS!” Barnstein screamed furiously. They ran back out to the field. But when they had not even loaded their guns yet, a burst of enemy gunfire struck from the sky as the loud whirring of a helicopter resounded. She ran and leaped over a short waterfall, falling straight into the water. Not expecting it, she flailed around and gasped for a few seconds before gaining balance and swimming back towards the falls. She grabbed the jagged rocks and attempted to pull herself back to the land, but slipped. On her second attempt, she managed to get on, and slowly got up, dripping wet. The air was silent again, as the helicopter passed. She limped, as one of the rocks had broken her leg.

She limped a few steps forward and stopped.

The blood-swathed bodies of young boys were scattered across the area, creating an unattractive blend of crimson and green. She knew that none of them were alive. She knew that she was going to have to convey to fifty-seven parents that their children had died, for a cause that they did not believe in. She stood, the guilt-ridden sole survivor of the battle.

She raised her head, clearing out the memory. She didn’t want to think about what those parents would be thinking of her now. She had been taught as a child like most that the bad people were always punished, but that was never really reflected. It was a very common cycle of the conversion of innocence into nihilism during the process of growing up.

Clearing her thoughts, she took out a few papers. Engaging herself would help her take her mind off those things.

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