Night 26, Fort Gakenomisaki
I am flat-out tired. Period. But I cannot help myself from staying away from my diary; thus, I write.
After a long, harrowing march of five or six days through the beautiful nature of Morigashima, we’ve finally returned to our abode in Fort Gakenomisaki. In the weeks we were gone, the fortress had been built up: simple, paved stone roads, stone houses, a foundry (how in the world?), places for recreation... I cannot be arsed to list down everything. The fort had turned into a town in all but name... and mandate. At least–perhaps–that’s what I wanted to believe.
In spite of the disappointing result of the battle at the beach where the all too important leadership of the demons escaped into the open sea, the natives took our feats as victories. Although perhaps too much of a victory. All along the march back to Fort Gakenomisaki, the settlements that the dirt road passed through had flowers, feasts, torches, and all sorts of celebratory setups as the natives cheered us on when we marched past. As news of the demons’ demise and the flight took off faster than the pace at which we marched, so too did the capacity of the natives to learn our language: they all cheered out the words “banzai!” as our column tiresomely marched through. Our commander, Col. Onizuka, had a smug look plastered on his face–almost as if he had forgotten how horrible he took the results of the beach battle... Oooh, I wanna give him a taste of my fist! Anyway... I will have to admit that the natives’ celebratory mood has gotten on me. Maybe the divine mandate we had been handed was actually real? Finally: this was more or less a concrete sign that there was a justifiable, understandable reason for why we’re here in the first place.
But that was not what I felt when we returned to the fort.
Passing through one of the gates that led inside, the only ones that greeted our return were a handful of civilians and the commanders that awaited us. While there was little in the way of money or currency in use since we just barter with the natives (or alternatively, we ask them what we want, and they outright give it to us, often with hospitable smiles) they were going to reward all of us with a feast. It was held at night–just a while ago–at the marching grounds. We only had so much sake at hand: we didn’t get to drink ourselves to our hearts’ content, but the fact that we got to drink sake, which most of us back on Earth never got to, was indeed something celebratory. What followed, however, probably soiled the mood.
Soldiers from the regiment who we fought the demons with started telling tales of our adventure. The expression of the storytelling soldier varied: some were glad that they could finally get to fire a gun and slay some demons in the process, while some were horrified–traumatized even–from seeing the gruesome sights of people being brutally butchered by the hideous monstrosities they fought. Regardless of the disposition of the person who told the story, the people who listened to them almost always didn’t take it well. I remember coming across several individuals who fainted or collapsed afterward, their eyes shocked to tears. Some were more optimistic, thanking the gods for not letting them get picked to be in the Demon Slayer Regiment. Still, at the end of the day, the prevailing sentiment in the fort was something along the lines of: “we’ve defeated them, so what now?”
Civilians, children, the elderly, soldiers, and even officers started to appear like they were deep in thought, perhaps considering what they were going to do moving forward. There hasn’t been any dream like the one we all saw before we woke up in this world, with no additional message from the divine being that sent us here. No one, not even the natives, gave us any additional direction or purpose to look forward to. Perhaps we’ll know later? I realized I’ve been posting questions here often, but there really are no answers–at least nothing that seemed obvious.
But then maybe... we’re not done? That’s probably the case, although when we’ll know what we’ll need to do to fulfill what’s needed, I’m not entirely sure.
- - -
Night 39, Fort Gakenomisaki
It’s been almost two weeks since we came back to the fort, and things have been... slow. The daily entries I’ve written over the past two weeks could only really be summed up in one-page paragraphs due to how mundane life has been.
In summary: things were starting to look less and less like we were sent here on a mission and more and more like we were here for a settling effort. The memories of the demons of two weeks ago were almost all but forgotten, replaced by everyday worries such as “what will be the lunch today?” or “which field will we have to work on this time?” At long last–to no one’s surprise–the directionless life of colony work was starting to take hold for most of us. Many of us soldiers were sent to help the farmers, haul crates of coal from the recently established mining town of Aoyama or barrels of oil from the oil fields near the founded town of Kuroko further south or guard the roads between Camp Edogawa and the other settlements. They’ve even set up a constabulary since several of us have actually started to get rowdy and commit simple crimes such as theft, assault, or the graver crimes of rape and murder. Just two days ago, I detailed how one of our soldiers–presumably from the ones guarding the roads–who threw himself at a native woman bathing at one of the nearby springs was dragged half-naked towards the constabulary office. With no enemy to fight, most of us grunts in the Army are just either buffoons with guns or capable yet freeloading workers that could be entrusted with almost any form of hard labor.
If you’re going to ask me a few days ago whether or not we still have a god-given purpose for being here, I’d likely answer with a cynical-sounding no. Fortunately, however, I started to see signs that things were about to change.
The biggest sign there was the buildup of transport ships and warships off the coast of Gakenomisaki. Every day, whenever I passed the cliffs on my morning walk to the mess hall, I’d always notice that there were a growing number of ships anchoring offshore. From a measly 15 ships two weeks ago, that number had grown to around 70 or so when I last checked this morning. At first, I dismissed this as the Navy returning from their deployment south, but I also came to notice boats transporting ammunition, fuel, foodstuffs, and other material coming to and from the ships.
Seeing them plowing through the waves fills my heart with a faint sense of longingness. A longing for something meaningful to do–something that had an underlying purpose. Of course, these everyday tasks that they’ve been ordering us to do are for the sake of our colonies on Morigashima–it would be bad for all of us should our operation here collapse–but fighting the demons was a completely different cause altogether. There was perhaps something in that adventure two weeks ago that I took for granted... Was it the thrill of getting to see them blown up? Was it the impending sense of doom I felt when facing unknown enemies? Or was it the fact that we were never finished with killing them off in the first place, given that their leadership escaped on fast, fantastical boats?
Either way, it appeared that this feeling of something looming over the horizon (besides the ships) was not unique to me. I didn’t have that many acquaintances–let alone friends–with whom I could chime in and check for updates; the four others I woke up with back on the first day have all found a comrade or two from their fronts back on Earth and we’ve all hardly had a chance to speak anymore. Regardless, I can tell from the eagerness in their eyes whenever they come back to the barracks that something may be afoot. Most officers that I come across, including those whom I’ve personally noted to be lacking the caliber reflecting the rank that decorated their collars, are all busy with preparations of the logistics nature. Even our civilian cohabitants were preoccupied with fulfilling bulk orders of provisions, rations, and other basic necessities.
When I tried asking what these were for, the calmest, most collected, and straightforward responses were usually: “I don’t know. I was just ordered to do this within the [insert time frame here].” Judging from that, I can say that the preparations–should they all be related somewhat–are indeed for something momentous. Not even the settlement efforts of Aoyama and Kuroko necessitated this amount of manpower. The responses also obviously point out that our higher-ups are being tight-lipped about it, but that isn’t something alarming; our excursion westward wasn’t brought up immediately. Chances are that they’re going to roll back the curtains eventually. Perhaps soon.
Night 41, Fort Gakenomisaki
And they did.
After calling all of us to form up at the marching grounds outside the fort–a feat that took the entire morning to complete–our commanders, along with some of the native elders, finally unveiled what they intended to do next: cross the oceans to land a division on a continent we called Daihokuriku up north. Without even waiting for the riff-raff among the more eager of us to settle down, they proceeded to lay down why we were doing this: to eliminate a ghastly figure known far and wide as the ‘Demon Lord.’ If the name alone wasn’t enough to evoke any sense of sudden realization, our commanders were more than happy to elaborate. According to the natives, the Demon Lord–also known by the less obvious name of ‘Nosgorath’–was a remnant of an ancient evil the gods smote firmly out of existence not too long ago. Their campaign to wipe out said ancient evil was cataclysmic–almost world-ending, as they say–but unfortunately, even this level of divine handiwork wasn’t thorough enough. As the people of this planet continued to build civilizations and pick up the pieces, several lunar cycles ago, the Demon Lord led the demon hordes from a faraway land to the north and into the continent, smashing resistance to a pulp. The natives of Morigashima assumed that they were safe from the onslaught, thinking that the hordes wouldn’t cross the oceans–it didn’t take long for them to come crying to the gods. It was around this time then that we appeared, and thus the events leading up to this point.
It wasn’t lost–not even on us lowly grunts–that this Demon Lord character was likely the ‘evil’ that lay at the center of our objective on this divine excursion. Almost immediately, many chanted out that they were ready to get this guy’s head; their spirits, once wandering from the lack of direction, were now all galvanized by this specific goal. At this point, it’s probably safe to say that the perceived failure of the Demon Slayer Regiment to capture the leadership was all but out of the window: if anything, those brutes must have been nothing more than the subordinates of this Nosgorath fellow.
Our commanders then gave a run-through of this upcoming crossing.
A bulk of the Navy fleet that was brought to this world–warships, supply ships, transports, landing craft, and others–were going to be employed for this crossing. Apparently, there was more than enough oil down south to power our efforts on this world for centuries, although I heard that there was little they could do about processing the stuff since we lacked the expertise to do so (I pity our maintenance guys). Together with a division-sized force, the fleet and the transports would cross the oceans north to the big Daihokuriku continent–the journey would likely take four days. Once there, our forces would commence landing operations; we’re poised to encounter the still intact hordes of the Demon Lord, which according to the sanest of native estimates, hovered around 40,000 to 50,000. Under the cover of gunfire and air support from the fleet and their aircraft, we would likely be landing on the beaches facing some resistance; the natives warned us that the Demon Lord was capable of destructive magic of untold magnitude–something which I’ve seen firsthand back on the western excursion. Whether or not that was going to hold up against the onslaught of our best bombers and artillery barrages–the sheer power of which spooked the Americans and the British back on Earth–was still up in the air for anyone to answer, but there was realistically only one way to find out. Our primary objective was to find, identify, and blow to smithereens the Demon Lord. To allow us to identify him, they gave us a description based on the native accounts. He was tall–about twice the height of an adult human–with a humanoid, muscular build, and his complexion was purplish black. The translucent fur that enveloped his skin appeared soft, but in reality, it was more than strong enough to break the bolt tips of direct arrow hits. His eyes glowed a sharp, eerie crimson, and two twisted, forward-facing tusks jut out from his head. This description alone painted a terrifying picture of a commanding otherworldly demon worthy of the title ‘Lord,’ but the rest of us were undeterred–still hungry to get this Demon Lord’s head on a bayonet.
Other than that, we are also to secure a coastal city by the name of Czoro, which according to the natives, became the den for the demon horde and Nosgorath or, in other words, their headquarters. Frankly speaking, if we are bringing our biggest guns to the fray, I doubt that this city would even be standing at the end of the day. Regardless of my grunt-level thoughts on the matter, our commanders seem hellbent on these objectives being achieved as ‘cleanly’ and as swiftly as possible. I still really don’t see the importance of taking this city as there’s probably nothing of value to us there and our primary objective is to strike down the Demon Lord; if anything, I’d wager that this is due to a request by the natives. If so, it must be an important city for them.
We were all dismissed just before midday, but the air of excitement and adventure didn’t dissipate in the slightest, even until now. The announcement caused a general sense of duty and direction to descend upon Fort Gakenomisaki. Everywhere I went for whatever purpose or task I was fulfilling, the people I talked to all had a distinctive flare in their eyes–a flare of fiery hope because there was finally something at the end of this mandate. If I had to guess, the revelation of a central authority figure at the helm of the demon hordes allowed all of us to finally have a narrow scope on which to dump all our frustrations, annoyances, hopes, and efforts onto there was finally a single source of the ‘evil’ the gods were referring to.
Going back to the barracks, I passed by the cliff once more. The red, almost ghastly appearance of the sun just a mere hair’s breadth above the horizon was comforting: just like back on Earth, the sun also appeared to set in the west here. I then turned my gaze north towards a stretch of the horizon I knew Daihokuriku lay behind. For some reason, my heart felt like fluttering at the sight of such an expanse of a world like a hole that was actually harder to escape from than when it first looked. It felt as if from this point forth, things were about to get awfully wrong. Will I ever see that continent? If I don’t, what will happen to me? If I did, would I ever get back to Morigashima? It’s not like I was born here, nor do I belong to this place, but in this world of freaks and unknowns, it was a semblance of a life I didn't even get to enjoy back on Earth. I’m not sure if I’m ready to part with it.
Anyway, it’s of little use to keep dwelling on this. Since the crossing is slated to begin in three weeks time, there was still more time to savor this place.
- - -
Night 63
The day ends with me bidding farewell to Morigashima, the continent of which its natives served as our hosts for the majority of our stay. Finally, we were back on the waves but most important of all is that we were back on our footing on the hunt for the demonic evil.
The embarkation took half the day as the engines of several of our launches–for some odd coincidence–broke or failed to start all at once. Ferrying a division-sized force on a handful of these small boats to the transports was a taxing duty for all involved, including us dead weights. With the last of the munitions, supplies, and vehicles already having been loaded yesterday, it was only just us lackeys left to fill in the transports. After we got comfortable in our cold, damp, rusting bunks, I managed to sneak a good thirty minutes of dozing off before the loud foghorn of the ships woke me up. Fortunately for us, the officers were more sympathetic to our grunts, so we actually managed to be up topside. Up there, in the freezing winds of twilight, we all waved our hands at the people–Japanese and natives alike–who had gathered at the coasts of Morigashima to see us off. Banners in the white and red colors with scribbles of war cries and signs of good fortunes were propped up by some of them, filling my heart with both a sense of duty and a sense of forlornness–it truly seemed like this was going to be the last time I’ll see this place. Perhaps once we’ve finished the divine mandate after we’ve killed off the Demon Lord, we might be zapped off from these lands by the gods once more. Was that really going to be it?
I returned to my bunk with an uneasy heart; the worries descending over it were like the veil of darkness engulfing the world as the sun’s light disappeared underneath the horizon. Not even the relative smoothness of the ship’s cruise through the oceans could settle this internal turbulence. This reminds me of the agitation I felt when I first set off on an Army transport from Japan to China; like then, I was scared that I’d never see home again. In hindsight, I wouldn’t stop my past self from feeling that way now that it actually happened, but could I really say the same this time? How do I dissociate and tell myself: “everything will work out”? That’s probably impossible.
Regardless, I’m already on this boat, and the next land; I’ll hopefully set foot on will be Daihokuriku. Apparently, they say that Daihokuriku is as large as five to six Morigashimas–now that’s a massive place. Morigashima was already a big place and we still couldn’t cover its entirety. I could only hope that the natives are right and that Nosgorath is where we’re going to land; it would be a massive setback should we be wrong.
Night 64
Today was a rather eventful day. Let me explain.
It was already late, and the sun was about to reach its zenith. The crossing had been largely uneventful and smooth, but at around 11 o’clock in my direction, the wind and waves were starting to pick up. Thick clouds were setting in, and while they weren’t the terrible, stormy kind, the winds they brought weren’t the least bit helpful. In spite of the conditions, we were still allowed to be on deck, giving us the amazing opportunity to see our mighty Imperial Japanese Navy warships–massive hulks of steel, we’re told, giving the Americans and British a hard time in the Pacific–swinging up and down as they crested the great waves that battered against their bows. Their powerful batteries pointed upwards as if to create an image of a defiant warrior braving the overwhelming odds. Despite the animosity between the Navy and us, seeing the bright red colors of the rising sun flying over their superstructures fills my bosom with pride.
Then, I could feel something tickling my eardrums–but I knew it wasn’t the wind nor something physical. I turned around to see the silhouette of a carrier-based fighter plane zooming past our ship at low altitude. The monotonous rumble of its engine quickly peaked before whirring away as it flew towards the empty, clouded sky to the northwest. Before I could react, a swirl of several more planes followed on its tail–they were clearly not armed with any bombs or torpedoes, so they might have likely been fighter aircraft. Soon, formations of dozens of fighters from other carriers took to the skies above the fleet before proceeding in the same direction as the earlier ones.
I shudder at the thought of what all that entailed.
Before long, a sharp, deep bellow reached our ears. It hardly lasted a moment, but we were all too familiar with the shock that followed it: yep, it was cannon fire. A symphony of crackling booms rocked the air all around; the warship that I was looking at a while ago already had its guns pointed to the northwest–it fired not too long after. The officers on the deck tried to get us back inside, but they too were awestruck by the sight developing in the skies not too far away.
I remember wondering to myself if we had been transported back to Earth, for a cloud of winged things in formation was approaching the fleet. They were flying relatively low compared to the regular altitude at which dive bombers would operate on an attack run. They came–as far as I can see–by the hundreds. It was almost like a swarm of locusts descending upon the fleet. Naturally, if I could see it, so too could everyone else; a hail of explosions appeared all over the sky as the popping of anti-aircraft guns became the dominant theme of this battle. Unfortunately for us, the rolling seas and uneasy winds rocked our ships hard, and as a result–at least from my perspective–they weren’t really doing much.
As we all cowered behind whatever object big enough to act as solid cover, some of us–including me–kept our eyes at the developments while making sure to keep our heads low. The nervous sweat that had built up on my forehead was joined by droplets of seawater coming from the splashing of the waves as our ship persevered. Wiping them off in a swipe of my hand, I’ve come to take a closer look at what sort of planes have come to attack us. However, the more I looked, the more it got confusing and unsettling. Bear with me; if my eyes weren’t deceiving me for the entirety of that battle, then I could say with certainty that the ‘things’ or ‘planes’ attacking us look more like dragonflies than any sort of aircraft I’ve come to see. With the help of a passing fighter trying to take out one of them with its cannons, I was able to get a rough estimate of its size: its wings were around two-thirds the size of a carrier-based fighter but its body was a lot more slender–perhaps just a tad bit bigger than the biggest sumo wrestler I’ve seen. It didn’t fly nearly as fast as our fighters, but they were capable of extremely nimble flight which allowed them to even draw circles around our fighters. They didn’t appear to have any weapons since none of them were attacking our fighters, but the six feet underneath their bodies all carried several conspicuous, flashing cylinders–these will be important later. Above all perhaps was their appearance. They were glossy–perhaps made out of the shiniest steel I’ve ever seen–and had lights and crevices all over; when our pilots and gunners do score hits on these things, they would eviscerate and fall into the ocean not in a mist of goo and flesh but in sparks and scraps. If anything, these dragonflies are better-called machines than abominations, which is such a disconnect with everything we’ve come across so far. Why aren’t they the hideous monstrosities the demon hordes have? Why are these things so... unnervingly futuristic? Are these really still the demon hordes we’re fighting? What the fuck is going on?
Fortunately for us, these ‘futuristic’ whatever were similar to the demons in that good old lead and explosives could total them. Regrettably, however, we’ll soon realize that they packed more punch than any we’ve faced up to that point. A dozen or so dragonflies closed in on a heavy cruiser steaming ahead of our ship. The close range allowed their gunners to have an easier time finding their shots, shooting down over half of the dragonflies; unfortunately, the other half surviving proved to be catastrophic. I saw their legs throw the cylinders they were holding–visible even in the heat of battle during a storm due to their conspicuous flashing–onto the deck and superstructure of the heavy cruiser. Not long after, a series of gigantic, bright orbs that looked like miniature suns manifested on the dark silhouette of the warship, expanding in a frighteningly uniform fashion in a blink of an eye before dissipating. Less than a moment later, a deafening bang reverberated across the ocean with the shockwave from the combined blasts throwing us down onto the wet deck of our ship. The explosions were unlike any I’ve ever seen; they combusted in an awfully uniform and perfect way, producing what appeared to be fireballs that literally looked more like spheres than explosions.
“Fuck! Atago’s been hit!”
A shout came from behind me. Once I’ve recovered from the fall, I turned my eyes back to the heavy cruiser Atago. As the ship’s crew appeared to be commencing damage control protocols, fires raged all across its deck on the port side while thick, black smoke blanketed the superstructure and the sky above the fleet by extension. Most striking of all, however, was the damage: entire parts of the deck where the explosions took place were completely vaporized, their damaged appearance looking as if something massive had bitten off the entire port section of the deck. Some of the steel in some places was still glowing red hot as if melted by the explosion itself. The horrifying part about this is that a lot of sailors–our own men summoned to this world after their deaths for some sort of divine mandate–had likely perished from this attack. It was a striking, chilling wake-up call to the capabilities of these dragonfly things, as well as the fact that given a chance, these bastards will kill us.
Seeing what had happened to the Atago, everyone else was either emboldened to take the fight to these hostile dragonflies and avenge her and her men or disheartened by the sheer destruction our enemies were capable of. Regardless of which side any of us found ourselves in, firing our weapons against these things never felt the same again. I’m confident to say that what happened next wasn’t a coincidence: the primary and secondary batteries of the warships all around us began firing too, perhaps in a frantic bid to shake off the hundreds of highly maneuverable, hard-to-hit dragonflies with bombs more lethal and frightening than any we’ve come across.
I watched helplessly for hours as the mid-afternoon sky turned dark from all the smoke coming from explosions, gunpowder residue, running engines, and so on. Blasts ranging from the driest sound of anti-aircraft gunfire to the deafening sound of the Yamato’s enormous main guns firing assaulted our ears, but this was something we had gotten used to. After three hours or so, the last significant bangs reached our ears, after which only the sloshing of the unruly waves and the grumble of ship engines remained. The battle seemed to be over. I have no idea how many of the dragonflies we shot down or escaped, although rumors abound that they numbered around 250 or so but I’m not entirely confident in that number. As for us, there’s no telling for a grunt like me how many people lost their lives in this battle, but I could count four distinct ships hammered by fires of varying intensity–already including the aforementioned Atago–but none of them appeared to be out of the fight. At least we came out of that battle without any ships sunk, or at least that’s what they tell us.
The dinner was gloomy and tense: everyone’s spirits were basically shattered. We left Morigashima looking forward to nailing the coffin on the Demon Lord for good and cashing in whatever divine reward we get for doing so, but the prospect of actually dying while doing so–something none of us took as seriously as now–just felt all too real. Additional sentiments included the dragonflies themselves and how they just appeared out of nowhere. Nimble yet packing firepower, they were unlike any of the enemies we’ve come across before. Sure, they were easily swatted out of the sky by a single shot given that it hit–a trait similar to the grotesque monsters we fought–but the high explosive bombs they dropped or threw were absolutely uncalled for; I heard some grumbling that it was unfair. The mood in the mess hall was not to my liking so as soon as I finished my dinner, I made for my bunk.
Now I’m all left with a lot of time to ponder about what had happened and what was going to happen next. Four ships on fire and likely a hundred or so deaths–not to mention the potentially hundreds more wounded–sounds like a fantastic result by my Showa 20 attrition war standards; however, given that we have three more days to go before we reach Daihokuriku, I’m inclined to believe that this will not be the last time they’ll try to do something. They might send the dragonflies again but seeing how we were caught by surprise by those things; there’s little reason to believe they won’t do something unexpected or send something new. We might have been lucky our ship didn’t receive any damage, but I’ll take it. In any case, while I do pray we may make it there safely, who’s to say that the Demon Lord won’t be there waiting for us to spring his trap? Is he that intelligent? What more surprises does he have in store? As much as I’m scared to find out, I am more compelled to see this through to the end. There could be more to the simple labels of ‘demon’, ‘evil’, and all sorts of fantastical language we’re using–especially if the contradicting, machine-like features of the dragonflies were anything to go around. The mismatch between the Gorey appearances of the demons, to the more humanoid yet still devilish looks of their more intelligent leaders, to the futuristic machines that were their dragonflies made me curious. However, with nothing much at hand to go by regarding these things, I’m just making assumptions.
I will go to sleep. Hopefully, these bastards don’t have the capability to attack at night.
- - -
Day 67
Gods. Famous last words... Of course, they have the capability to attack at night! If it weren’t for the fact that their munitions were flashing, we would probably have never seen them coming. Thank goodness the battles didn’t last long, nor did they happen again after that first night.
It has now been three days since that first day of the crossing. Every single day was a struggle to fight these dragonflies off; initially, we had come to the point where we were constantly on our toes, wearing us down dramatically. Fortunately, however, if what I was seeing wasn’t some sort of fluke, the ferocity of the attacks seemed to decrease after every battle. There were a lot fewer dragonflies attacking us the next battle, and it was a lot easier to focus our firepower and shoot them out of the sky; this was also reflected in our casualties, with the first battle being the bloodiest one we’ve had. If I were to guess why this was the case, it was likely that the Demon Lord only had so many dragonflies at hand. By yesterday, their number had dropped to the point that a single patrol of fighters was more than enough to deal with them. Whatever the reason, it felt like a much welcome respite for everyone. Spirits had risen close to the level with which we left Morigashima and some of us even started to not treat the warning sirens seriously.
With that said, we’ve now approached the end of our journey across the ocean. I’m here right now on the deck, basking in the warm rays of the early morning sun, taking in the breathtaking view of forested hills, bare rocky cliffs and mountains, and pristine white beaches clear of any signs they’ve been defiled by man sprawling on the horizon to the north. Finally, we’ve reached the fabled continent of Daihokuriku. With the ships all stopped, everyone had gathered onto the decks to get their own share of the bountiful treasure that was this view. Sadly, it appears we don’t have long to do so.
An officer had just come up to the deck to announce that we’ll be boarding the landing crafts in an hour. I guess I’ll have to prepare my gear and leave this off for now. Hopefully, the view, once we’ve landed, is a lot better than the one here.
