No one had expected enemy forces to be where they actually were.
All the "fives" wanted answers. To reasonable, non-strategy questions, like, WHY IS THERE A CHILD ON THE BATTLEFIELD? WHERE THE FUCK IS HE? WHO TOLD THEM TO SURGE? WAS HE "SCHIZOPHRENIC" BEFORE JUST NOW?
The young commanders were circled by other commanders. Each took the stance and posture of being attacked by a pack of wolves.
"What the fuck just happened out there?" A field surgeon snapping a right-angled-the-wrong-way leg back into "normal" position calmly asked. He asked the exact question every thirty seconds until someone who could hear and was close enough to respond somehow could start the piecing together.
Impact.
Impact.
Impact. An AI voice reported while people scrambled for pens, papers, maps, anything that was not somebody else's.
Through the powdery dust mounting like snowfall went the team still up and running. "Body under a tank
"Partially in the mud
"Photograph," handed a laminated number card, "Everything with this marker thrown at it."
"Done."
"On MY count. LIFT.
"HEAVE
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