Well, the first and most obvious answer to the Norwegian's question was a flat-out: "I have no fucking clue," followed by the old favorite, "I'm a Logistics Officer, not a Combat Unit." But Marcia, even as she opened her mouth in preparation, chose wisely. She couldn't say that- she wouldn't, not with her being stuck between a rock and a hard place. The enlisted man, the rock, would crumble and the hard place, the upper echelon, would bring a righteous hammer down upon her head long before they got their heads outta their asses. Marcia needed to think, and what she lacked in experience she made up for with the burning desire to avoid embarrassment.<br/><br/>Simply put, it was like being put on the spot to answer a question from a teacher in high school.<br/><br/>"That's the thing, Sgt. Eriksen," Marcia remarked upon glancing at the soldier's rank/nameplate. "We don't know about the enemy. Command dropped a bomb over the radio for us to dismantle, disarm, whatever, all without telling us about enemy movement." She shook her head and threw her line of thought aside. Now was not the time to speculate. "Uh, nevermind that.<br/><br/>So, until these orders are superseded by a senior officer, you will do the following: one, get the men on the defensive line with them looking over the river for any movement. Garrison the taller civilian structures if need be. Two, alert any civilians near our DL to move west into the city; keep non-combatant casualties to a minimum that way. Same applies to any rear-echelon or support." Marcia paused, clicked her tongue and then continued that thought. "Unless they insist on staying and reinforcing the main line, then leave them be. We shouldn't start turning away volunteers at this time. And finally, my third order, when you get the chance I'd like a munitions inventory. Rifles, heavy machine guns, grenades, magazines, etcetera."<br/><br/>Turning to Private Aiden McNab, Marcia gestured to the Sargeant.<br/><br/>"Private? You should find your squad, or any squad needing an extra man, and hunker down on the line, unless Sgt. Eriksen here could-" Again, Marcia second-guessed herself. "Actually, why don't you go with the Sargeant? Assist him with the inventory?"