That Time an American was Reincarnated into Another World

Chapter 179: CBRN

April 3, 624

“... FIve Bombardos were killed during combat, with more than half casualties inflicted to four platoons. Respective Scourge escort formations were killed or routed.”

“I understand. Thank you, First Commander. Take care of your soldiers. I’ll slot you in for a longer R&R period.”

“Thank you, Envoy.”

I shook hands with the First Commander, his Aura tired but appreciative. This interaction was representative of what I had worked hard to get to: I treated the troops I commanded with respect and care, doing what I could and keeping my promises, and they gave their respect and trust to me. 

The loss of three platoons – 120 people, I reminded myself – might not have mattered to someone like Alois. He most likely would’ve consolidated the platoons, padding their numbers with people torn from fresh reinforcements, and sent them right back out into the fray. 

But sometimes people needed a small break to process a slaughter like that. I could give them that time, and commanders appreciated that greatly, especially when I actually stayed true to my words. 

It was the least I could do for sending them out there to begin with. 

I gathered up the report the First Commander gave me. It had tallies on casualties, from differing severity of wounds to bodies recovered. There were many that would never make it home, even in a box. And even if the report didn’t specify, all of us knew exactly what was happening when a corpse was marked “missing”: they would simply disappear into the sickly forest, dragged off by some Scourge beast, and never be seen again. We were nothing more than food to those monsters. 

I heaved a sigh, stowing the report in my storage. I’d need to hand this in and get it filed eventually, but there was someplace I needed to go to first. 

……

…

The medical bay was crowded as it always was these days. Soldiers groaned in pain, unable to muster the energy to even scream, as their missing limbs were healed by healers with dead eyes. The lucky ones were asleep. But today wasn’t a normal day. I pulled on my mask to dampen the scent of iron and shit before walking through, eyes peeled. 

Trauma wasn’t the only thing the healers dealt with, but it was usually the most common. Not today. 

Almost half of the patients here had either horribly infected wounds or were afflicted with some sort of disease… or both. 

This was a new disease, something I hadn’t seen or heard of before. It manifested as a necrosis around the wounds, turning black and oozing fluids as it developed. The worst ones also caused thin black blisters to form on top of the skin. The entire bay smelled of rot. 

My first thought was gangrene. However, it had already become clear to me that normal sicknesses and diseases didn’t work on magical humans, especially knights. In this medical bay though, knights were the majority of the population. It was affecting them as it would any ordinary human, and that made me think that even if this was gangrene, it was boosted by magic. That made it extremely dangerous. 

I had refused to even enter this medical bay at first, simply observing from afar. However, after some watching, I noticed that none of the medical staff caught anything from the patients. It was probably only bloodborne, which was reassuring. 

Eventually I would walk through the place while holding my breath, purposefully keeping my trips brief. Then I started observing more closely and talking to the staff, using my mask more often for what I bought it for. 

However, it wasn’t perfect. The fact that I could smell anything at all through it meant that it wasn’t perfectly scrubbing the air. Stuff was still getting through, which meant that if something really did get airborne, I’d need better precautions. 

Safety equipment aside, this was a new magical disease that was affecting almost every wounded soldier. More wounded were coming in with infections than without. I needed to know why. 

I also had a feeling that the odor in the air had something to do with it. The entire base, even the land around it, was filled with a stench, despite the lack of a single fungal growth in sight. Normally, the scent would only be noticeable in the badlands, like on extended patrols and the infiltration mission, when we operated for longer times deeper within the mats. 

I was pretty sure that the Scourge was really trying to spread the fungus and Gut Root trees. They were corrupting the terrain, turning it into a biological wasteland, and, by extension, their territory. 

Even if we won this war, the land wouldn’t heal for ages. Just the fungus was an ecological disaster, to say nothing of God-knows-what-else they grew. 

However, there seemed to be more to this now.

After getting a good look at the med bay, I went back to the office Polly, Jasmine, Hendrick, and I shared in headquarters, making my way immediately to the map we had sketched of our operations. 

New missions had started just last month to try and restrict its spread, but showed little progress. The fungus didn’t burn that easily and seemed to grow faster than we could get rid of it. Worse, the top brass didn’t think of it much, and so allocated very few troops for us to handle. It was treated purely as busywork to occupy the troops when idle, and only existed because I had advocated, hard, for it at a meeting a few weeks back. 

I threw an occasional glance at the red thatched areas of the map as I went through mission reports, matching areas of operation and medical casualty numbers. Eventually, the amount of data had grown to so much I pulled out my Orb, marking numbers and locations and dates and calculations. 

After about an hour, I had a conclusion. 

The vast majority who had gotten infected were wounded on top of the fungus. Those who didn’t fight atop the fungus almost never had infections, those who did almost always did. 

And there was my answer. The fungus was somehow distributing this disease into the wounds of the soldiers who fought atop it. I didn’t know if it needed direct contact, but it didn’t matter either way; it was almost conclusively the reason why. 

This would increase mortality rates significantly if not dealt with. With that in mind, I called up Polly and Jasmine for an urgent meeting. 

Once they arrived, I presented my findings. The two women took the information in stride and shared a nod afterwards. 

“Makes sense. This is dangerous.”

“I’ve heard from the healers that a majority of those who get infected are dying. The only ones that have survived are those who are getting amputations early enough. Limbs have started to fly since normal healing doesn’t work on the infection.”

The two gave their input. I wasn’t the only one looking into this. It had probably already been brought to the attention of the Generals. 

Now though, it was time to formalize it. 

Polly chimed. 

“Let’s draw up a report. I’ll hand it off to Quill.”

“I already have most of the data here. You can reformat it.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Polly took the Orb, going through its data before scribbling down the report in the more formalized (and gilded) official report formats. 

Once that was done, she left with papers in hand. Jasmine and I lingered behind. 

“What do you think of this?”

She asked as I stared at the map. My opinion seemed to carry more weight recently, and unfortunately, I was right more often than not. Usually that meant bad things to come. 

I scratched my head. 

“It’s a magical disease that the Scourge developed.”

“Really? That would mean they can develop that stuff.”

“Indeed. The only other thing I can think of is that the fungus is rotting and infecting them because of that. I’m not sure about that though. I’m more inclined to believe that this is a weapon of theirs. I mean, think about it. 

I reached out to a nearby board and started using Psyka to draw on it, numbers and diagrams appearing under my finger. 

“Our normal mortality rate for wounded is around 15%. Of the surviving 85%, 97% are able to return to duty. However, with this infection, that number is cut down massively. All the infected are either dying or getting amputations. Even if we can reduce deaths to zero, almost everyone who gets infected will lose a limb, which means they’re dead weight unless they can get the limb regrown. We don’t have the healing capacity for that.”

“So even though the mortality rate may not necessarily rise, soldiers will still be rendered combat incapable. In the end, we’re actually losing a lot more of our combat force with every battle.”

“Yeah.”

I nodded and drew some more numbers. 

“If we take the general rates as I’ve seen them, consider all amputees as dead, and assume that only bleeding wounds get infected, then wounded mortality rates will rise to around… 68%.”

“Over half of all troops who even get hurt will be incapacitated. Casualty rates per battle are sitting around, what, 24%?”

“We’re losing around 16% of every force we send out to battle.”

I stopped and looked at the number for a few seconds before turning back to Jasmine. I had detailed this in my little report that Polly had gone through. 

Jasmine hadn’t seen it, so she was as shocked as I was when I first calculated that number. 

It was massive. 

With how often battles were being fought, we couldn’t afford a 16% mortality rate. That was 160 deaths for every thousand people we sent out to fight, and that was being conservative; the numbers would only get worse the longer we didn’t change anything.

Of course, those weren’t all deaths. But being amputated wasn’t any different from dying. It was another soldier that couldn’t fight, and from a strategic perspective, no different from a death. They couldn’t be used, only cycled back to the rear. 

That wasn’t to mention the fact that this infection was affecting everyone. The strongest person I had seen infected was an Authority 8, and I’d bet that Authority 9s would get infected all the same. Maybe not Authority 10s, but I didn’t know enough about that level of power to guess. 

Not all casualties were equal in this world, which meant declines in combat power would be even steeper than pure 16% rates. 

And if I considered the fact that the Scourge could possibly weaponize biological agents…

None of this left a good feeling in my stomach. We needed to develop new plans to combat this issue. 

That meant a lot of reports, shifts in policies, more briefings…

I was in for another major workload, especially if I was as capable of helping as I was starting to think I was. 

I sighed. 

“Ready to get busy again?”

“... I don’t wanna.”

“I don’t either…”

I rubbed my temples. Jasmine muttered in response,

“We still haven’t heard back from the Chiefs, have we?”

“... No.”

My mood fell even more. 

The Chiefs, the Doves that we had sent behind enemy lines. They shouldn’t have been over there for so long. It had been well around five months and they could’ve returned at any point during the last three. 

The fact that they hadn’t meant that, most likely, they had been killed. 

“... I hope I didn’t end up killing another one of my squads… But they should’ve been completely prepared…”

“You did everything you could, John.”

Jasmine cut in. 

“You couldn’t have prepared them any more than you did for that mission. Everything after that was up to them. You can’t blame yourself for what might’ve happened.”

“... It sounds like an excuse.”

“I know.”

She stood and reached over, rubbing my back a bit. 

“Unfortunately it comes with the job. We can only sit behind these walls and wait, hoping we didn’t send out our soldiers for the last time… But it needs to be done. You know the kind of enemy we’re fighting. And you know that somebody has to send them out. At least you care enough to worry. That’s more than I can say for many others in your position.”

“... The only difference is that I can do more.”

“...”

She didn’t respond, because she knew I was right. I was in a unique position of danger every time I did battle, but I was more than capable of fighting. I was no stranger to it and there was no reason why I shouldn’t also be out there. 

I wanted to go on that mission in the first place. I didn’t like letting jobs that I could do get put on other people’s shoulders. I couldn’t ask someone to do something that I wouldn’t do myself. That’s how I approached every mission I created. 

I tightened my body before standing, walking out with Jasmine.

……

Polly’s report was received well. That meant they were paying attention to this issue and would do something about it knowing it was a significant enough problem to warrant sweeping changes. 

If left uninhibited, the entire base would soon be riddled with infected persons. Disregarding the potential danger to the uninfected, the mortality rates were high and if left alone, our forces would be decimated. We didn’t have the numbers to sustain those death rates. 

Multiple emergency meetings were called in order to brainstorm solutions. 

Healers were brought in and interviewed. Once we got their input, they were let go with the task to run tests and experiments. The Generals wanted to conquer the disease, which meant a bit of alchemy and voodoo magic. I didn’t know how the hell healers did what they did but I’d trust that they knew what they were doing. 

On the other hand, the only reliable plans that could be put into motion were preventative. In that arena, I actually had a lot of useful input. 

I didn’t hold back a lot of my knowledge because this was my life on the line too. 

Biological contamination was something Earth was no stranger to. I called upon this knowledge to draw up a whole list of policies to mitigate the chances of infections in a variety of circumstances. 

From changes to apparel, to the protocols used by healers, I thought of everything I could in order to provide the common soldier a better chance of remaining uninfected should they get wounded. That meant sealing, sterilizing, or isolating the wound as soon as possible while putting off treatment until they were outside the fungal area. Even something as simple as covering the wound with cloth could help. Anything to prevent the wound from coming into contact with either the fungus or possible contaminants that it emitted into the atmosphere. 

I likened this infection to a parasite so the others could understand. If they thought that the fungus was basically attempting to burrow into them anytime wounds got close, then they would understand the need for isolation. 

And I wasn’t disregarded. Although I was a low rank and nobody knew where I got this information from, it wasn’t like they were stupid either. My ideas were logical and easy to implement, and far cheaper (both financially and in terms of manpower) than what would be needed to develop antidotes or cures. 

Because what I was saying wasn’t so outlandish, they also didn’t have any issues with considering the need for decontamination and medical isolation. We had to assume anything that went over the fungus was carrying the disease, and so everything from vehicles to the armor soldiers wore would carry those contaminants and needed to be washed every time they wanted to enter the base from the outside. 

How through the wash would be remained to be seen, but it wasn’t like I could properly determine that anyway. I had neither chemicals nor devices to measure contamination, so there was no way for me to mitigate that issue beyond my suggestions. Still, even a simple spray down with water might make the difference, and they had no issues with a cheap and possibly effective solution. 

Of course, it all had to be put into formal writing, and since it was my idea, I was given that job. 

More reports, more meetings. That was my life now, it seemed, and unfortunately, I was competent. None of it would end anytime soon. 

I just got to work. 

Within the week my reports and protocols were developed. I detailed not only the protocols themselves but how to implement them and who to brief with what information in order to get it going. I detailed every plan for base wide decontamination, biohazardous personnel and material handling, and improved field medicine. By the end of it all, because I had written so much, I formatted it into a book. 

It contained almost everything necessary to deal with biological and chemical hazards on the personal and strategic levels, at least as it pertained to this world. This was far from a CBRN handbook. 

Still, it was organized and easy for people to understand. Once it was done, I handed it off to Major General Quill. 

I didn’t hear from him for a couple days after that. When he did finally come talk to us again though, orders were given to implement just about all the suggestions I gave. 

I was also ordered to teach everything in my book to every First Commander, Chief, and Brigadier on base. On top of that, I heard the book was sent up to the brass beyond the base. 

Well, I didn’t mind whatever they did with that information. I was just glad that they were actually doing something about the issue. 

Still meant more work for me. 

From then on I was swamped. Hour after hour, I filled briefing rooms with First Commanders, Majors, Chiefs, Lieutenant Colonels, and Colonels. Everyone who led at least 500 people came to me for education. Thankfully the summoners were easy to teach. The others took a bit more time, and most had to come back or ask me questions. 

It felt like I was teaching damn near everyone. I tried to do my best to get the other intelligence agents to help, but most weaseled their way out of more work. They were damn good at that, a skill I should probably learn and practice as well. 

Unfortunately, the demand for my protocols only increased as the disease only got worse over time. 

More and more people were either dying or getting amputations because of it. It was hitting just as hard as we predicted it would, and so the Generals, understanding that this could turn the tide of the war, started implementing every change they could. 

Not just using my suggestions either. Their attacks went on the defensive. Fewer people were sent out to fight. They wanted to keep as many people as possible from getting hurt, hold back the Scourge and lose the least trying to do it, and the soldiers had no issues with that. The only issue was that combat effectiveness went down significantly. Everyone was scared of getting infected, and the Generals were just buying time until prevention measures could be rendered effective. 

Thankfully, my efforts weren’t for nothing. After another week or so, infection rates went down. The healers had some successes, and when paired with my prevention measures, mortality rates dropped back down to manageable levels. Combat effectiveness didn’t necessarily rise back up with it, but that wasn’t my issue to fix. 

I did more than enough. It was up to the Generals to make their decisions and moves. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t like the Scourge would wait for them. 

One day near the end of April, I looked up at the sky, and found a bird.