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SCL Chapter 20: Orders, Honors, and New Blood
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 02:36:28 +0000 UTCVenice District, Polk's Pride, June 11, 2488.
At the base of the 5th Battalion, 4th Brigade, 33rd Ground Assault Division of the Terran Federation.
It had been several days since Augustus first arrived in this city—now reduced to ruins. Despite some setbacks along the way, he and his fellow soldiers had made it out alive. Lieutenant Warfield had been sent to the officer’s hospital at Polk's Pride, and so far, there had been no new updates about his condition.
The commander of the Imperial recon unit who came to their rescue had been visibly shocked. For a recruit with no combat experience to lead an equally green squad of rookies and manage to defeat a Kel-Morian assault cavalry team—it was almost unthinkable.
In the commander’s opinion, the mere fact that these fresh troops didn’t collapse and scatter on the spot when faced with the enemy, all without any superior officer in command, was nothing short of divine intervention.
He praised Augustus highly for his quick thinking under pressure and promised to report the incident truthfully, adding that the Marine Command would be more than happy to award him a Medal of Honor.
Originally, the rookie platoon Augustus had belonged to was meant to be dissolved and its members reassigned to various companies within the 5th Battalion. But in the end, their formation was kept intact and reassigned to the severely depleted 1st Company, 3rd Platoon—under Lieutenant Warfield. Their official designation remained as Squad One of the combat teams.
Their new platoon leader was a young Second Lieutenant named Reagan Streicher. A lean, sharp-featured man with jet-black hair, he carried himself with brisk efficiency. He had also served under Warfield before.
Due to the prolonged wars, there was a serious shortage of properly trained NCOs who had received formal officer education. As a result, Augustus—despite still being a rookie—was temporarily appointed squad leader for Squad One. Within the week, Warfield was expected to either assign newly arrived officers or promote some of the privates to fill the non-commissioned ranks.
Over the next few days, Augustus found himself occupied with writing a detailed report on how he had led the rookie platoon to defeat the enemy cavalry. This after-action report would be submitted to a Staff Sergeant from the 5th Battalion, where it would help flesh out Augustus’s otherwise empty personnel file.
During this period, their company remained stationed at the base, not assigned to any combat missions. It was a peaceful interlude for the soldiers. Apart from the occasional roar of bombers and Avengers flying overhead toward distant fronts, not even gunfire echoed near the camp.
Meanwhile, Augustus and the other soldiers trained under Lieutenant Reagan Streicher, who aimed to improve their coordination and combat effectiveness. During their drills, Reagan also took the time to recount the proud history and battle honors of the 33rd Ground Assault Division.
But when the lieutenant began praising their division commander—Arcturus Mengsk—for his fairness, integrity, selflessness, and tactical brilliance, Augustus couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward, no matter which perspective he took.
That said, Reagan was, overall, a very approachable person. He was a capable Marine officer—efficient in carrying out orders, meticulous in execution, and with a natural sense of humor that made him easy to get along with. He had quickly won the respect and trust of his men.
Augustus got along well with him. They soon became good friends. The only odd thing was how much the lieutenant seemed fixated on Augustus’s last name—Mengsk.
However, that period of peace at the camp came to an end on June 11, when Lieutenant Warfield returned from the hospital and resumed his command duties.
That afternoon, Warfield summoned Augustus to the company office. He handed him a deep green military insignia, marked with three inverted 'V'-shaped bars, stacked vertically.
“Congratulations,” said Warfield. “You’re a Lance Sergeant now. Sergeant Mengsk, here’s your new ID card.”
Along with the card, Warfield also handed him a bronze medal and a golden ribbon adorned with wheat motifs. The medal featured an intricately engraved eagle’s head with piercing eyes. Tiny English letters on the edge spelled out: Medal of Honor.
In the Federation Army, this Medal of Honor was typically awarded to soldiers who had demonstrated bravery in combat and were on the verge of promotion. In some cases, the medal could even substitute for the required merits or test scores needed for a rank advancement.
Augustus noticed the sizable wound on Warfield’s head had already scabbed over. Even so, the lieutenant was brimming with energy, his gaze sharp and full of intensity. There weren’t many documents on his desk—only disassembled pistol and rifle parts laid out neatly across the surface.
Behind Warfield stood a young soldier carrying a long-barreled rifle. He had striking golden hair, a narrow chin, and thin lips. His eyes, set slightly farther apart than normal, gave his face a somewhat unusual look. But the sniper insignia on his chest—and those sharp, eagle-like blue eyes—left a lasting impression.
"Lieutenant, seeing you safe and sound puts my heart at ease," Augustus said politely as he received his rank insignia and medal.
“Heh, it’s all thanks to you,” Warfield replied with a warm smile. He didn’t hold back on the praise, adding, “Without your command, those green recruits wouldn’t have turned into such fierce wolves. You saved me—and every single man in that rookie squad. It was a miracle. The General Staff is highly impressed by your heroic deeds!”
“For a newly graduated soldier to be able to organize a squad without a commanding officer, without letting them collapse, flee, or surrender—that in itself is remarkable. Augustus Mengsk already possesses the most essential quality of a true sergeant, even a future officer.”
“During the battle against the Kel-Morian assault cavalry, every order he gave was deliberate and necessary. Augustus Mengsk’s genius in strategy and military command has already begun to show.”
Augustus could tell—this was clearly the evaluation from a Marine Corps staff officer, probably from the report submitted about the mission. Warfield was just quoting it verbatim.
“You earned this,” Warfield said, locking eyes with Augustus. “As for that batch of crystals your unit recovered, our supply sergeant is still assessing their value. The bonus will be added to next month’s payroll for everyone in the rookie squad. The 33rd Ground Assault Division isn’t like other units—there’s no such thing as officers pocketing extra spoils here.”
“Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.” Augustus smiled, his expression sincere. He really was pleased. He’d expected it would take at least three months, under normal circumstances, just to be promoted from Private Second Class to Private First Class.
“Oh, right—your brother. I mean, Colonel Arcturus Mengsk. He’s scheduled to arrive at Turaxis II next week,” Warfield said, like he’d just remembered something.
Augustus gave no particular reaction. He simply nodded calmly.
“And one more thing—I need to introduce the newest member of your squad: Private Ryk Kydd. He enlisted in the same intake as you. Out of this batch, he’s the most promising sniper.”
Warfield gestured toward the young recruit standing beside him.
“Take him to report in with your commanding officer.”
“We’re comrades now,” Augustus said, shaking Ryk Kydd’s hand as the new recruit approached.
On their way back to Squad One’s barracks, Ryk seemed a bit reserved—quiet and cautious, only speaking when Augustus asked him something directly.
Meanwhile, Augustus read over Ryk’s rookie profile, his training camp instructor’s letter of recommendation, and a hard-copy P-1 personnel file.
All the materials pointed to the same conclusion: even though Ryk had never handled firearms before joining the army—and showed no particular sniper talent in his first two weeks—once he began formal training, he earned his sniper’s badge in just eight weeks.
In fact, only two recruits in the entire history of the training camp had ever achieved such an honor—and both were graduates of the prestigious Tarsonis Sniper Academy.
