Early in the morning, blue-feathered seagulls began crying in the sky.
An ordinary third-class naval seaman named Nuo stood watch at an anti-aircraft post, his gaze following them toward the azure sky as he softly hummed a tune.
Today was a rare day off.
Although they had entered a full state of war, after crushing the Orks' weak fleet, the powerful First Task Force seemed to have lost its primary opponent. The rest of its time was spent patrolling the coast and escorting merchant convoys.
It sounded unbelievable. The land had already become a living hell, yet the coast of the New California Republic was remarkably peaceful.
Because the enemy was too weak.
Nuo considered that a good thing, because he had once helped carry corpses off ships that had fought the Ork fleet. He would never forget what those dead men had looked like.
Very few of the bodies had remained intact.
Nightfall's Number One main gun turret had once been completely destroyed by Ork rockets. When it returned to port, Nuo went aboard with the others to clear the deck.
In the end, they used shovels to "clean" their comrades out of the wreckage of the Number One turret. As for telling who was who, that was already impossible. They could only bury their dog tags.
So Nuo was very satisfied with the current situation. He hoped it could remain this way forever.
But he had also heard that fleet headquarters seemed to be drafting a new offensive plan.
He was just an ordinary soldier, so he could only treat such rumors as after-dinner stories. Yet even he was somewhat confused. The Ork fleet had already been defeated, and most of it lay at the bottom of the sea. Where else could they attack?
The veterans had said