Seeing the stunned looks on the train crew, Goring felt a little sympathetic. He reached out and patted Bob on the shoulder. "Locomotive Chief, I know you didn't want to see this outcome, but reality is what it is. No matter what, I have to thank you and your men. I'll have someone arrange accommodations for you first, and then we can discuss the rest."
"Commander, we..." Bob wanted to say something more, but he had barely begun before he was interrupted.
At that moment, a soldier ran into the command tent from outside. His clothes were covered in blood, and a heavy stench of it clung to him as he panted out his report. "Com... Commander, the battalions at the two southern salients have been hit continuously. They really couldn't hold out and have already withdrawn. Casualties are over thirty percent. They're regrouping at Camp One. Do you want to go take a look?"
"Fine, I understand." Goring said no more and strode outside.
Bob watched Goring's retreating back, opened his mouth, but ultimately did not say what he had meant to.
A civilian staff member in the command tent walked over, glanced at Bob, and gestured toward the exit. "Mr. Locomotive Chief, shall I take you to your accommodations first?"
"Ah, all right." Bob and the others followed the civilian staff member out of the command tent.
Only after leaving the tent did they realize that, during the time they had spent inside, the situation outside had changed drastically.
Before entering the command tent, the atmosphere at the Gray Parrot Enhanced Regiment's encampment had been grave but still quiet and orderly.
Now, when they emerged, the camp had become an entirely different place—countless soldiers raced through it, some carrying supplies, others hauling blood-covered wounded, shouting constantly.
"Reserves, reserves!