Redeployment

Since his arrival in Southeast Asia HQ, Hirsch heard very little about his redeployment. He was one of the survivors and no one talked about the entire Manila fiasco since just about everyone knew someone who died aboard the Himalaya-class carrier. Those that survived managed to wash up on the Filipino coast before they were taken to Southeast Asia for further medical care. Now relatively healed, these shipless seamen wandered the base and nearby jungle looking for something to do. The ennui was slowly killing all of them.

Hirsch stayed in bed and only got up to eat until he was summoned to the chief bureau. When he walked in, Hirsch saw his commanding officer peering through the window shades. The old man reacted to his intrusion by asking him to have a seat.

"Tell me, private, how has everything been for you on our pleasant base?"

"I'm antsy, sir."

"Excuse me?"

"There is nothing for me to do here. Just jungle everywhere..."

The officer interrupted him, "You know, I was a lot like you at the beginning of the war - absolutely scared shitless."

"But I'm not..."

"Save it. You have fear written all over your face. What are you so afraid of, private?"

Hirsch appeared perturbed by the question, but felt very little reservation in answering sincerely, "Dying, sir."

Hirsch looked away for a second as his mind re-winded to his last near-death experience at Manila.

It had been hours before they found the Aqua GM in the depths of the ocean floor. The coral had made it difficult for the search team to identify the scattered debris from the wrecked mobile suit. So they assumed it made it through the battle unscaved and abandoned any further efforts to look for it while I sat in the cockpit with water up to my neck. With the GM's chest caved in, the cockpit exit was jammed. Fragments of the dashboard were lodged in between my ribs as I bled. I had barely realized what had happened to me before I blacked out. The water soon turned a dark vermillion and I would surely die...

'Ma'ma!,' I yelled with tears in my eyes as Feddie grease monkeys used their blowtorches to open the cockpit door.

'Ma'ma!,' I continued to cry out. I could barely feel the rest of my body, 'Ma'ma!'

When they finally blew the door open, they yanked me out of the cockpit in order to treat the bleeding. My head rested on a young cadet's lap, everyone else was circled around us trying desperately to keep me calm.

The cadet stroked my hair, 'Don't worry, Hirsch...you are good now.'

'Ma'ma. Where's Ma'ma?' I began to shake convulsively.

'Someone bring the fuckin' morphine!'

Tears ran down my face in droves, 'I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die.'

Whisky was poured and the officer handed him a glass.

"In order to stay alive, you have to kill your enemy first."

"What if I don't wanna? Is that even an option?"
"No one is going to force you to do something you don't wanna do, boy. But I will not lie to you, the Federation needs you in these difficult times. Do you even know why we chose you to pilot one of the most advanced mobile suits in the Federation's arsenal?"

Hirsch shook his head.

"Because you are the best at what you do. You alone could change our bad luck in the water against the Zeon."

The officer hoped flattery could win the disenchanted submariner, "What do you say? Will you continue to fight?"

"I suppose."

"Perfect, now get your shit ready. We are sending you to the Indian Ocean."

Realizing he was being kicked out from the office as soon as the officer got what he wanted, Hirsch made his way out the door. The officer then called his secretary, "Get me in touch with Phuong Vet Kha... Yes, Ms. Kha, I wanted to inform you that Private Munchek is in. Yes, we're shipping him off to the Indian Ocean. Do what you must, but my dear, please make sure he doesn't fuck up the test unit. Nearly destroyed it the last time...and my career!"