I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun Chapter 667

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End of January, Brooklyn, New York.

The sky visible from the window was chillingly clear, and outside the building, there was a constant chanical sound, as though machinery was running. It was the sound of winter's icy wind sweeping across Brooklyn.

The whiteboard was being updated daily with the quantities of supplies and fuel. Naturally, the numbers—i.e., the stock—were decreasing day by day. The thing Captain Parkinson was most concerned about was fuel.

The 191kw generator installed in the basent of the hospital consud about 24 liters of diesel per hour, and with the weather never rising above -15°C lately, the fuel consumption for heating had skyrocketed.

No one knew when the weather would clear up. The only certainty was that the fuel would run out before the winter passed.

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Despite the large stock of food, much of it was MRE (als Ready-to-Eat), notorious for causing constipation—but no one was complaining about food now. From commanders to low-ranking soldiers, everyone was eating the sa.

Still, they weren’t without so conscience. Fresh produce from nearby grocery stores or refrigerators and advanced combat rations like CCAR would also be distributed as needed.

The conversation naturally shifted back to the subject of Eugene.

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