Wings of Honor: Bad Moon Rising

Chapter 2: The Very Next Thing

There are a few things I've come to grips with in my life, nightmares have never made it.
Tonight, I was back in Jade Mountain, emplaced in my trench. But it was only me as far as I could see, the entire battlefield was cast in a fog.
I heard the screeching rumble of tanks, the battle cry of men. I gripped my MKB tightly, bracing it securely. I fired at shapes in the mist, round after round. They kept coming, breaking through the mist.
Hopelessness began seeping through my defenses. Between a few rounds, I would lob frags to break them up. Followed up with accurate fire to stop stragglers. I was holding my own against the infantry, but then tanks started rolling in.
Ammo was running low. I ducked away, letting them get closer. I had to steel myself to prevent panic as the Earth rumbled around me. Once I knew they were close, I hopped up and tossed gammons.
Tanks burst into flames, Infantry around them were riddled with shrapnel. But they were getting close, uncomfortably close.
You could imagine my panic when my MKB jammed. I tried racking the bolt but it wouldn't work. I set it down, grabbing sets of grenades. I tossed them as far and fast as I could. But tanks and Infantry kept coming. My breath was sharp, and fast, as the fog closed in. They were at my trench, armor and Infantry.
I drew my pistol, dispatching one as he came over the parapet, only to reveal two more and a tank. I grappled for a frag, but I had no more. Only one gammon. They raised their rifles at me, I raised my pistol at them, popping off the cap of the gammon. I felt my chest open up twice, my fingers quickly losing feeling. I saw the gammon fall out of my hand, a small trail of smoke. I tried an agonized yell, but the world faded back into darkness. I was still alive.

That morning, I got up with a stiff back. The first thing I did after sitting up, was check on the egg. It was still in the same spot, only slightly nudged in the night. I took it out and inspected it. The cracks were only lengthened slightly, no new branchlines, but the mainline was liable to split it clean in two. I realized now that there was a constant pitter patter, indicative of rain.
"Well shoot." I sighed.
There was no way I would risk the egg in the rain.
The basket's worn and only woven grass. The blankets would get damp, that might compromise its temperature. I can't risk it.
I set it back in its basket, but not before rotating it 90 degrees. I grabbed my jacket I placed underneath the basket, moving it over my bedroll instead.
It was comfy warm in my pup tent, with the egg sitting snugly while I got my jacket on. I didn't have the luxury of a hoodie, my helmet would be my cover. My old trusty helmet, which Hastings added a new silver bar and connectors just before The Siege of Jade Mountain. It was slightly off center, but it did show my new rank, and my men were proud of that.
I drew up a little smile before I started undoing the pins on the far side of the tent. I moved quickly, so as to keep the tent's warm air, protecting the egg. I plunged into the drenching downpour of rain. As terrible as it was, I still needed to go pee.
After awkwardly relieving myself on a tree not too far from the camp, I set about water collection while the rain was still with me.
I set up as many pots as I could, in as many places as I could. A soup pot, a frying pan, a couple of canteen cups; I considered putting out my own helmet, but it would be more fuss, bother, and itch than it would be worth. One sad thing I found was that the fire pit was drenched. The leaves caved in, and also some of the sides had collapsed. I would have to redig it after the rain stopped.
Other than water collection and the fire pit, I also grabbed some long, thick vines. Chopping them as long as I could, I brought them into the tent after thoroughly inspecting them for any dangers.
Back inside, I snacked on a breakfast K ration while I laced up the vines to make a makeshift rope. Admidadly I wanted to kill myself halfway through. Keeping suitable tension while dealing with wet and living materials with only two hands was a long and grueling process. The rain had long stopped when I finally got a usable strip of rope about half a yard long. Then again, I could've probably made a duck tape rope, but that was thinner and more prone to getting cut or frayed while under shear.
Maybe when I came back, I could fashion a couple lengths into rope, then weave three of those into a stronger, more user friendly rope. But that would be a future project.
Heading back outside, I was met by an incredible shininess. The small amount of light that made it down was reflected around, lighting up the area. It was only slightly dimmer if I had been standing in the forest on a normal day.
The pot was half full of water, the pan was as full as it could get, as were the canteen cups. I emptied them all into the pot, which still had a small amount of space left over. That had to be three days of water at least.
Once I get the fire set up, I can distill it. Once I get back. Sliding the bayonet into its pouch, grabbing the empty duffle, and my length of rope, I set off for the coconut grove.