Under My Command (TomTord) (DISCONTINUED)

Part 12

(3rd Person PoV; Red Army Base)

    A couple of days have past and Tom was still recovering with a boring scenery in the infirmary, his only savior being anyone who happened to visit during the day. Edd's come by nearly every day now, not for very long however, due to his duties as a soldier. But there were others, one of Tord's right hand men, Patryk, had stopped by here and there. Informing him on everything going on around base and all around just socializing. It was nice, but little did Tom know of the chaos stirring up around the past day or two, Patryk of course had refrained from saying anything, not wanting the new member to worry too much.
    Today wasn't any better to say the least, a fight had broken out on the main fields with the rookies, the Purple Army had sent a letter of possible warning, and Tord wasn't getting near to enough sleep due to the war about to breach it's limit of waiting time.
    Tord was sitting in his office, darks bags around his eyes and his head down in the papers he was writing, occasionally checking back and forth between stacks that sat on his wooden desk. Near his left side an ashtray lay with an abused and shortened cigar, smoking with little life. The scent of it was so familiar to the norski that he had nearly drifted off a few times.
    There was a knock at his door before it swung open with ease as Patryk appeared, he walked in steadily and sat down in the worn chairs in front of the man's desk, studying his leader. But as he studied him he realized that Tord hadn't even noticed his presence as he wrote with no finish line in sight.
    "Red Leader." He said...no response. "Red Leader," he said again, this time more sternly. Still to no avail did he lift his head of hum with question. "Sir!" This time Pat was successful as Tord's head drew up with a flash, a look of confusion slowly appearing. "Oh...Hello, Pat. What is it this time? The rookies? Or the Yellows perhaps?" He asked worriedly.
    He only shook his head. "No sir, nothing since the rookie outbreak earlier. But I do think you should get some rest, freshen up your mind." Tord only grunted in reply, "I'm fine Pat, I just need to do a few more papers."
    Patryk sighed, "Sir, I really think you should go to bed. You haven't had a proper sleep for nearly three days!" At this point, Patryk was right. The norski had gone three days with little to no sleep, but that only increased his temper, so yelling wouldn't be the best decision at the moment.
    "Pat," he growled, "I think I kno-" he was cut off as Paul entered the seemingly tight room, several envelops in hand. "Sorry sir, just today's mail." He said gruffly, placing the tattered envelopes on Tord's desk. "Oh. Erm-thanks Paul." He said.
    The gruff man only stood for a moment longer before making to leave. As he did so Tord almost began to continue his lecture before a letter caught his eye. He grabbed the letter and studied the purple wax seal on the front, labeled 'PA'. He tore it open and read it's contents, fear and dread overcoming his face more and more as he read each line.
"Red Leader, what is it?" Patryk asked, at this statement Paul stopped at the doorway and turned to view the situation, concern in his eyes. Tord placed the paper down, wide eyed and in a cold sweat. "It's begun" he whispered gravely.
"What has?" Paul questioned.

"War."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
(3rd Person PoV; three hours after the declaration of war. RA base)

It's been three hours, and the base was no longer filled with rookie fights and maintenance problems. It was filled with soldiers, walking fastly in every which way, trying to find their desired destination.
Training was an absolute right now, and no one was fooling around. The halls were dim and were filled with multiple footsteps and low chatter. Everyone gossiping about the upcoming battle. Especially Red Leader, whom of which was stationed in the mess hall with a crew of specials. Medics, soldiers, and more.
They were all grouped around a table where a map had been rolled out and pinned in certain places. "...as said before, the first battle will be taking place in Tromso, so we'll definitely need our winter gear. Also if any...." his voice boomed through the large room as others intently listened. Taking in the instructions and placements.
    Edd was among the many in the mess hall and he was beginning the feel frantic and worrisome, plenty of unwelcoming thoughts letting themselves into his mind.
    Nervously, Edd began to fiddle with his fingers, his hands seeming to cradle one another. It distracted him momentarily as he continued to listen to the stern and exhausted Norski. But then his mind drifted to Tom and he was sparked with concern, what would he think about this whole ordeal..?