Seeing Red

[FaithWynters]

Time seems to stand still. I can’t hear anything but my sobs and I’m not dead yet. I can’t feel anything. It feels like an eternity as I wait for the gunshots that are my father’s death. I wait and wait, but nothing happens. This eternity has only been a few seconds between the group of us. My father’s heavy breathing rings in my ears. Then, another sound breaks the silence. Someone has broken down the front door. I can feel myself about to be sick on the floor. I still don’t trust this man to keep his word. Will he really protect me and my mother?


I just wait for the boots to grow closer and take us away. The boots come faster than I expect. It’s the man. He pulls me off of the ground and I can’t help but cling to his body. He is warm. The grime is thick on his body, but I don’t care anymore. I grip at his front, my eyes pressed closed. Men are yelling and shouting. None of them bother to speak to us in German. They just yell orders at my father in their foreign language like he is a dog.


Then, he speaks to me. I am sure they are the last words I will ever hear from my father. If it is even possible, they break my heart even more. I can feel the wetness on my feet as he curses me. I know that I have betrayed my country. I want to scream at him how sorry I am, but before I can say anything, the body that I grip so tightly to has got my father in his grasp. It seems that he knows too much German for my father’s good.


I open my eyes to watch as the face of my elder his beaten into a bloody mess. He says nothing more, for he has to be pulled away from the man. I say nothing. I don’t beg him to stop. I just watch, silent tears running down my cheek. My mother has been silent this whole time, but she stares on in silence. Our eyes meet once my father is gone. She looks at me only for a second before looking away; her eyes tell me that I am dead to her too. I am about to get sick on the floor. Everything I’ve ever had is slowly slipping away from me.


Before I can, they drag me out of the room. I close my eyes. My bare feet scrape against wood and then concrete. I don’t think I can walk on my own. I am sure that my legs are jelly. Instead of shoving me in the large vehicles they are forcing the soldiers into, I am given a blanket. The night has turned cool. I am helped into a van. My mother appears beside me. Then another. I can hardly see anymore. My eyes burn; they hurt. The soldier seems more calm now. He is with his people and is no longer faced with then unknowing. Surely he will be given some sort of metal for his work to bring down an SS Officer. He is now the safe one, and we are the ones in danger. I don’t look at him for long before I pull the blanket tightly over my shoulders.


“Wenn ich könnte, würde ich Ihnen für Ihren Vater zu handeln.” If I could, I would trade you for your father. This is the first thing that she has said the whole time. She smiles, this simple and threatening smile. She is trying to make it look like she hasn’t just said what she has. She has no idea of the extent of the soldier’s knowledge.


“Mama…Inc-“ The smile has faded.


“Sie sind nicht meine Tochter .” You are no daughter of mine.


Then, with her words, comes the anger. A burning rage inside of me that I’m not able to control. Everyone is blaming me, but the soldier was not stupid. He would have found the two sleeping anyway. Without her, he probably would have shot them dead in their beds. They should be thanking her. Kissing her feet and praying for her prosperity. This was what she got? Her mother was alive because she had bargained for her life. Did she know that? No. Did she care? No. She wouldn’t care.


“Dann meine Mutter bist du” Then you are not my mother. Before she has time to react, I reach back and hit her as hard as I can. My fist is balled up into a tight knot and I aim for her nose. She lets out a cry in pain. I pull back and hit her again. I want to hit her until I can no longer feel my hand. I want to show her how much pain they have put me in.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

The lawn of the German family is cluttered with men in green building fires, cooking the Schultz family's meals. Some are just clambering out of their heavily armed artillery vehicles, stretching their feet. Others are waving chocolate bars in front of the house-maidens' faces, whistling and trying to swoon them before a Master Sargent shoos them away.


They act like animals.


But I don't blame them.


This world is a dark place.


A Private walks over with a pack of cigarettes in hand, he places one between my lips and lights it using a match. I take a deep drag, nodding a small thanks to the young soldier before he walks off. My mind is cluttered. I'm surrounded by soldiers, but none of them are my men.


No.


They're still hovering around me, drenched in blood and reaching for my bones. The greyness around me shakes slightly. The ring is back in my ears and I can feel the haze trying to lasso itself around my brain. I pull the mug to my face, throwing the steaming hot beverage into the back of my throat, letting it scorch the delicate flesh. The burning pain brings me back in time to hear the mother's bitter words. I do a double take, and suddenly the young girl I'd sworn to protect began to violently beat on her mother. Everyone pauses to watch, as blood splashes across my face.


"Hey! Hey!!" I yell, but the attack continues.


"Hör auf! Fucking quit it!!" Stop it!


I jump to my feet and pry the daughter off her, my hands gripping her wrists as I rip her away. I've pinned her back to my chest, forcing her arms to cross and using my own limbs to secure her tightly as I back away, struggling against her fit. I place my head against hers letting my body calm, trying to shift her environment. I start to speak gently, keeping her close as other soldiers take the mother away, filing her into a separated holding van, one void of men, and frankly anything.


"Es ist in Ordnung. Beruhige dich, du bist sicher. Ich habe Sie. Niemand wird euch schaden, das verspreche ich. Nicht einmal ihr. Siehst du? Sie ist jetzt weg."


It's okay. Calm down, you're safe. I have you.


No one will harm you, I promise. Not even her. See? She's gone now.


I continue to shush her, trying desperately to dampen her sudden spike in intense emotion. Somehow the action has made a lump form in my throat.


What is she doing to me?

 

[FaithWynters]

All I see is red like a Nazi flag blinding my vision. I let out quiet little mewls as I exert myself on this woman. I will no longer call her my mother. Over and over again I hit her. By the third hit, I’ve broken her nose and our bloods mix. My knuckles are bloody from hitting the hard bones of her teeth and cheeks. She cries out in pain. I don’t care. She has the nerve to damn me for saving her life? Fine. I will show her all the pain she has caused me since we moved into the godforsaken house. I don’t hear the man trying to call me off of my mother. I’m practically on top of her now. I’ve straddled my mother in my own nightgown, and I’m beating her. She doesn’t make a sound anymore and she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even try to stop me. I don’t worry about the specks of blood getting on the white fabric that rides up my legs.


I pull back to hit her one good hard time, but someone scoops me up and stops my attack. I fling my small body, my arms wildly moving about myself as I try to get the soldier off me. I don’t know who it is at first; I just know that I want to continue beating that wretched woman until she is no longer breathing. I am so angry. Before I can stop myself from being pinned in a way that makes it where I can’t move my arms, I feel a strong chest behind me. My wrists are pulled so that my arms wrap around me like anacondas. I cannot move.


A body is enveloping me in its warmth. Only now do I start to hear the sounds of soft words. They are above me. I close my eyes and listen. It is the soldier that—less than a night ago—had pressed a gun to my head and threatened to kill me. Now he speaks softly to me; he is successful into calming down until I am just a shaking mouse of nerves in his large arms.


I don’t even know his name, but I lean my head back into him. I’m sure I still disgust him. Him and the rest of the Allies that shout and laugh at their victory. Some sick German girl that is upset that they lost or something. A spoiled brat that doesn’t understand what’s going to happen to her. I let my body relax until I don’t even shake. I just sit there, looking blankly at the wall for a moment. Now I feel the stinging of my knuckles.


“Why don’t you just let them take me with my father?” I swallow hard. I’m trying to push the English out past my German accent. “I know I disgust you” I try to move my wrists so that I can get my arms free. The man is far too strong for me. I try to push my legs out so that I can adjust my nightgown farther down my legs, but my bare feet just slide on the metal of the truck. It moves slightly, so I keep pushing until I know that the effort is futile, and I stop. I can’t make my body do any more.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

Pulling her down I feel a soldier drape a thick blanket around us, my feet now dangling off the end of the truck. Two men are positioned to my right, pointing thick Brownings at us. I have discarded my cigarette to the mud, and let out a heavy sigh as I keep her limp body on mine.


"At ease." I breathe, my chest rising and falling in such dramatic patterns it makes my dog tags rattle. I take a deep breath, trying hard to clear my head of the thousands of whirling thoughts that consume it. To be honest I don't know why they're letting me console this poor German, why they haven't pried her away from me. When I realise the Privates are still hovering I shoot them a glare.


"Don't you boys have better things to do then gawk at a woman in distress? Get out of here." They rush off after this, their boots flinging mud.


I keep my back straight, my exterior calm and collected. In reality though, my neck is sore and my lungs are tired. "You would kill eachother." I say simply, resting my forehead on her shoulder.


I feel defeated, against everything I've accomplished. My puppet strings snap and my shoulders sag.


I take another deep breath. Wardaddy's face popping behind my closed eyelids, making my bottom lip quiver.


"I can't bring myself to let anymore innocent lives...." I start, the thick sadness on my tongue sticking to my words. I clear my throat, gaining myself some leverage before I continue.


"Ich kann nicht zulassen, die guten sterben. Sie wollte nur die Flucht, und ... Sie verdienen es nicht, wie ein Gefangener behandelt werden." I can't let the good die. You just wanted to escape, and... you don't deserve to be treated like a prisoner.


I pull my head back and stare at the sky, blinking back tears. I can hear a Tank and more armored cars making their way up the steep hill, crawling towards us. More Americans.

 

[FaithWynters]

I cross my legs so that they don’t just hang there. There are men everywhere. Anywhere I look I can see some sort of allied troop making his way someplace and doing something. Even if this man had not come, the allies would have made it to our home and taken us. I would have never been a traitor, but I would have been a prisoner. I press my body against the man. He creates a warm cocoon around the both of us; it comforts me.


I watch the two men that stare at us. He seems to call them away, but for a moment they just stare. I wonder what they are staring at, and then I remember what an odd pair we are. It makes my stomach do flips. The men walk away and he tells me something that I already know.


“We would not kill each other. He would kill me.” I speak softly, more to myself than to him. I’m sure the logistics don’t bother him too much. He just knows it would be bad. It would be. I was very aware that if my father would have had a gun, it would have been me that he shot first, not the American.


I feel his body relax onto mine. I move my head slightly so I can look at him. His head rests on me. I finally realize how tired he is. He has been fighting for so long. I swallow hard. He probably hasn’t had a good rest in quite some time. He’s too busy fighting against the German people. I’m sure its not because he wants to, but because he’s being forced into it. I don’t pull away from his body as it relaxes. He is tired.


It would have been so easy just to throw the fact that he probably killed innocent German soldiers back in his face, but my mind and body are tired from the night. If I feel like I do, I can only imagine how he feels. I move myself slightly so that he might be able to better relax himself.


“I thank you for your humanity” The words slip quietly from my lips. The weight of his head is gone as he watches more of his comrades come over the hill and invade this little village. I am sure there are no German’s left. The allies have probably taken them all out. I let out a quiet sigh. I am not happy, and I probably never will be, but I am safe. That’s all I care about right now. I wiggle my wrist until I can pull it loose from his hand. I curl my small hand around his larger one. I can feel the dirt and dried blood, but I don’t mind it. I just smile and lean forward slightly. He is tired. I owe him my life. I owe him more than that.


“Bitte schlafen, meine namenlosen Soldaten.”


Please sleep, my nameless soldier.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

My head swims as she speaks, making my gut coil and bunch in a thick wad in the middle of my belly. I press my lips tightly together, staring into the low-mouth clouds overhead.


"I thank you for your humanity"


I thank you for your humanity


thank you for your humanity


for your humanity


Humanity


Its like a bullet in my head, ricocheting off my skull and pelting my brain. I can feel my chest starting to to tighten.


The eyes of strangers are sliding across my vision, skin hissing and splitting in flames. Small hands holding thick guns, dead children are lying lifelessly in the foxholes. A woman is lying near a downed building, clutching a screaming baby in her stiff arms. Decay wraps itself around my body and squeezes....


Her wrist slips from my grasp, and I bite down on my bottom lip, reopening the small wound again. But the pain brings me back. She shifts forward slightly and I can feel myself cringe. I almost crawl out of my skin, ready to tackle her if she runs. But she's not running.


Her hand falls in mine, small and smooth in my stained skin. Warm and reassuring. I'm trying to focus on the blond locks that have invaded my space, the smell of her perfume, the sound of indistinct chatter....anything to keep myself our of my own cranium. The barbed-wire wrapping itself around my neck loosens slightly as I hold her close. My lids start to droop, and I can feel her ocean eyes pinned to my face for a brief moment.


"Bitte schlafen, meine namenlosen Soldaten."


Her nameless soldier.


Or the man who will murder her father.


I want desperately to allow my battle-skin to shed, to rip my mask off and let myself break into a million pieces at this woman's feet.


Instead I rest my head gently against her shoulder again, and stare into the mud on my boots. "James." I mutter quietly, and sleep is threatening to take me under.

 

[FaithWynters]

As the silence spreads across our small little area, I watch as men run back and forth. They go into houses and come out with food or towels. They are lining up anyone they can find and forcing them in cramped little vans. One by one, the vehicles leave. I wonder where they are going, but I will hold that question. It is none of my business. Really, I don’t want to know if these people live or die. Their deaths would just make this scene even more sickening to me. I pray silently for something to save them, but from what I’ve seen tonight, I am not even sure there is a God anymore.


Maybe…That’s why I am alive and in this man’s arms. He is a comfort to me just as I hope I am a comfort to him. Men continue to pass by us—the German girl and the American soldier—and stare. They don’t stop any more, because they’ve seen worse things that they should question, but they didn’t. They still shoot me dirty looks as I watch them pass. They say things about me in English to their partners that follow beside them. I feel like an animal on display. They don’t think I understand, but I do.


The tension that was in his body when I moved has slowly dissipated into nothing. His body is so tired. I can almost feel the last bits of energy left in him slipping away. As I watch him, I can watch his eyes close halfway. I think it must be some sort of fear that keeps him from sleeping. He is afraid I am going to run away, or that someone will attack him while he tries to rejuvenate himself. I want to apologize a million times over for the pain he has had to endure. I want to tell him it will be all right, but, in reality, I am not sure.


“James” The name is soft as he presses his head against my shoulder. He must still be trying to fight this sleep. There is no way he will be able to fight the fallout from the adrenaline he’s had coursing through him all this time. The crash was bound to happen. The weight on my shoulders grows slightly. I smile, hoping that it will bring a sweet calmness to my voice.


"James." I speak the word to get a simple feeling for it in my mouth. I know that I always have the chance to tell him my own name when the timing is a little better. Right now, I just say it quietly under my breath. I would never forget that name--I was certain of that. I say his name aloud one more time, this time, so I can get his attention.


“Sleep, I will wake you if something changes” I give his hand a light squeeze. I just hope that we do not leave soon. This moment is perfect in some strange sort of way. He was my protector, but I could protect him now. Leaving this place means truly turning my back on my family and everything I’ve ever known. No more schooling. I can feel my teeth clench. No more simple life. Just some unknown future for me. I really don’t want to think about that. The blanket around us keeps us warm, and I watch out of the back of the truck. It is the only thing that will keep me awake while he sleeps. It is the only thing that keeps my mind preoccupied enough to not think about my family and my own life.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

I'm fighting sleep.


Fighting on tooth and nail to keep myself conscious. Ready. Arms up, stay alert, keep your eyes peeled, shoulders stiff, back straight.


But her soft breathing, and the way my name sounds on her tongue has taken hold of me. I can feel the heaviness of sleep on the back of my tongue and my eyelids flutter close before I can protest. The world seems to slide into the earth. And I seem to be going.....under.


The sea is ramming her fingers in my mouth. The heavy salt pelting my skin as I huddle with men on this crowded deck. I've no idea where we're going, and the feeling of the waves beating against us has a knot the size of Texas growing under my ribs. Some of the men are buzzing with excitement, clutching their guns tightly to their chests. North Africa, Sicily, and Italy had been taken under our wings. I was ready to take down the god-forsaken Japs. They'd blown to bits some good men.


scrrrrape


Crunck


The ship heaves and it feels like rocks have slammed into our baow. Something zooms by our left and slams into the water, almost capsizing us. Someone in the front, I think it's our new Sergeant is yelling at us to jump out, to throw ourselves in the swirling darkness beneath. I shake my head ferociously. This isn't what was expected.


I swore we were going to Iwo Jima.


Instead they sent us to our deaths.


Before I can protest any longer my commanding officer is without a torso, his top-less legs falling to the quickly sinking vessel. I have red splashed against my face, stinging my eyes as I throw myself from the wreckage in time to escape another shell. My heart is ramming into my ears, seeping adrenalin into my gut. We're not in Jap territory.


A foot bumps into my side, the remainder of a fallen comrade is darkening the water around me. I swallow hard, and try not to picture it as my own flesh as I clamber over the coral reef and dive deep in order to keep enemy eyes off me... I go under just in time to feel a shock wave.


The vibrations of another bomb rattling my bones. The water is caving in around me. Somehow this scene is different. I can see all the mangled bodies drifting to the bottom, their eyes following me as I pass over. My body seizes, something has clasped onto my ankle and is tugging me under. I panic. Scream, thrash, and kick. My eyes pinned on Wardaddy as he tries to take me down with him...


I jolt awake, body shaking. My breath is heavy and I've got such a snug grip on the girl I almost don't notice the sweat that's clinging to my forehead. I rip my trembling limbs from her, my lungs trying to expand beyond their fixed capacity. Quick sharp intakes of air are causing my head to swim. The sun has broken the clouds open, and the light has splashed along the new temporary US base. I barely notice that I've pushed myself so far away from the German in my state of confused terror that my body refuses to catch me and I fall on my back. My tongue is numb now, and the image of pleading afraid eyes is making my own honey-hues water uncontrollably. I take a deep breath, burying my face in the crook of my elbow. The blanket has been ripped off us, and my exposed skin is trying to dry itself, making me shiver. I swallow sharply, my dry throat catching the lump that's forming and shoves it under me. "Sorry." I breathe trying to sit up. Trying desperately to clean my skull of these poisoned cobwebs.


"Verzeihen Sie." Forgive me.

 

[FaithWynters]

I know that once he has gotten relaxed, he will sleep soon after. For a moment, I just sit there. I must get used to the feeling of his weight on my back. It is not uncomfortable, but it is new. I look out into the continuing brightness. There is still movement everywhere around. The men have set up a base came here where the town is. I’m sure they will loot it for all it is worth. They seem to disappear into houses and come out again with items in their hands. They’ve set up vehicles and tents. Men talk on little box phones and look up at the sky. They mess with little bits of technology in their hands that I’ve never even seen before. Some stand and sit around talking and laughing. I glance back as I feel arms tightening around me. James still sleeps. I look back.


Looks as if these men are on a completely different time clock than the sun provides. They have probably been up all night, pushing the allied line farther and farther inward. I can see spread out yawns through the men. Arms tighten around me and I shift in an attempt to loosen the grip. He still sleeps, so I just turn and watch the sun rise and let it warm my skin. I don’t want to move again for fear of waking up the soldier. James. I run the name through my mind again. I must remember it. I must start using it.


I’ve been sitting here, looking out across the clearing for about an hour now. I can smell food cooking somewhere nearby. Then, the stress on my body is increased. The arms have curled up and pulled me to James. I gasp quietly; I am finding it hard to breathe now. I can feel his chest fall and rise behind me in deep, quick motions. It takes me a moment to realize what is probably going on. Before I have a chance of doing anything, he throws himself backward; I almost fall off the end of the truck in the force of him throwing himself back. I grip the cold metal beneath me to keep myself from falling head over heel into the dirt below.


I turn myself over, crawling off of the edge of the truck. He is panicking. He is lying down on his back. I can see the frantic rise and fall of his chest. I crawl forward as I watch him. He’s trying to regain composure. I think he knows where he is now; he remembers. There is enough space between his legs for me and I utilize it. I sit on my knees. He’s apologizing and picking his back up off of the truck. I reach forward, using my weight to help him up. He’s asking for forgiveness, like he’s done something wrong that I would be offended by.


This soldier has done a lot. He’s been through so much that I can’t even imagine. He’s seen things and done things I could probably never do. There is no reason to apologize for that. His arms shake and I leg go of them. I pull my hands up to grip his cheeks. I can feel the sweat and grime as it mixes on his face.


“Look at me, James” Every time I speak in English, I realize that it is probably just a taunt for him. There is no hiding the Germanic roots as I speak. I watch his hazel eyes. They have been watering; I can tell. I don’t say anything for a moment. I will not respond to the apologies that flow from his lips. I know they are unfounded from my view. “Look at me and forget whatever you saw.” I don’t smile. I just stare into the globes of pain and sadness. “Here there is only you and me.” I bring a thumb up to wipe the water from beneath his eyes. I can feel the pity settling deep within my stomach. I relax a little bit on my legs. I smile softly, watching him. “Just you…and me” My voice softens now. I hope that I’m doing the right thing in trying to help calm him. If not, this could turn out very badly for me. I don’t stand a chance facing the wrath of an angry allied soldier.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

It takes me a few moments to realize who is breathing my name. Small hands are hovering over my skin and I uncover my face to glance up at two large blue eyes full of concern. I stare unto them, just like she is asking me to, and a thumb swipes away the silent tears from my face.


"Just you....and me."


And the dead


I prop myself up on one elbow, my hand coming up and cupping her cheek. I can still see the faint marks of grime where my fingers had cut off her voice earlier, and the sight makes me tear my vision away from her. My chest is swollen with too many feelings, and the emptiness in my stomach is messing with my brain. I can feel my breathing slow, but the image of Wardaddy's blood-soaked features is causing the cracks on the surface of my armor to expand. Suddenly my head is resting on her knees and I'm staring into a nearby fire, trying with every ounce of energy I have to pull yourself together.


I feel weak. I'm tired, my bones need rest, and the eyes of the fallen keep burning holes in my skin. But I don't let it consume me. Instead I sit myself up slowly and run my fingers through thick brown locks. Shaky deep breaths make my dogtags rattle, but the edges of my world come into focus, and I know exactly where I am.


I glance back down at the woman I saved, and I feel something in my chest restrict. A sharp pain, because she reminds me so much of someone.


I shake my head, because thinking of her is too much for this soldier.


"How long was I asleep?" I ask, and clear my throat to stop the waver.

 

[FaithWynters]

As much as I would like him to, he will not hold my gaze long enough to calm down. He looks into my eyes, but he soon pulls his gaze away. I want to beg him to do as I say. These ghosts that seem to haunt his dreams pull him away from me and into his mind. I’m not sure he’ll ever be able to forget whatever it is that his dreams haunt him with. His breathing slows down and I continue smiling softly towards him. If he were to look at me, he would see it.


Before I can stop him, I feel his warm cheeks pressed against my bare legs. He looks into the bright fire that has been made. The fire burns a flush into my cheeks. I watch it for a moment, not speaking. His breathing is forever slowing and I know that he has—at least—calmed down a little bit. The face is gone and I instinctively pull the white slip down my legs. I look away from the fire and to James.


I pull myself out from in-between his legs. I think it would be best for the both of us if I get myself out of this position. I crawl backwards until I can move to sit on my knees next to him. I don’t want any of the other people that could be watching to get the wrong idea about what is happening. A simple question is posed, but for some reason, it takes me a few moments to really understand him. I turn to that I can look out toward the home that I had been in less than two hours ago.


“You were sleep about an hour and a-“ I stop, searching through all the words that I know to find the word. I give him a half glance, hoping that he understands my dilemma. Hopefully it won’t just be an annoyance. “an hour and thirty” I have to change the way I answer him because I don’t know the word I am looking for. I relax back until I can pull my legs in front of me and I am sitting normally. I cross my hands in my lap, locking my eyes on the blue sky. I don’t dare look at him.


“The food smells good, hm?” I cross my legs. I can feel the last few hours sinking into my body. I cannot just sit in the back of this truck forever. I want to change and eat something. I don’t want to have to worry about this damn dress anymore and my stomach curls on itself with every breeze. The smell of the cooking meats has made my body wake up. “I could go get you food…if you would like” I still don’t look away from the scene before me. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to walk around without James. Nothing has been explained to me; I have just been thrown into this unknown world without guidance. I just know that while I am with James, I am safe.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

The way she tries to explain my sleep deprived absence makes a small smile start to play on the corner of my lips. I want to correct her thick accented English, but I don't have the heart. Or the energy. I lift a hand to swipe more excess tears from my face, only to wipe away crusted blood and dirt. The mingled substances feel familiar against my face, but the thought that the blood belonged to someone I cared for makes my facade fall instantly.


I glance at her to bring back the roaming warm feelings, but she's staring into the sky, and the smell of food is wrapping itself around the inside of my skull. Mangling my circuits.


As if she read my mind, she points out the lip-moistening scents. The sound of sizzling bacon, sausage, eggs, boiled potatoes, various types of beans and vegetables cooking on the cluster of open fires brings me to the present. I push myself off the back of the truck, my boots sinking into thick mud as she offers to fetch me a meal. I look up at her small body huddled on the back of US machinery, and then to my subordinates. The way their eyes seem to swim over her thin limbs and small features makes a sickening knot tie my organs again. Suddenly my face is covered in a thick frown and I shake my head as I speak softly.


"Meine Leute schauen dich an wie ein Spiel, was. Du bist nicht mein Augenlicht, namenlose Mädchen zu verlassen." My men look at you like a play thing. You're not leaving my sight, nameless maiden.


I feel like I'm getting a handle on the language, my words aren't riddled with my thick southern American accent, and the Germanic tinge is starting to seep through a little. As I speak in this foreign tongue, Wardaddy's green-steel eyes bear themselves into the back of my eyelids. It makes the wire frames on my collar bones tighten.


"Wir werden unsere Mahlzeiten zu bekommen, und essen Sie in Ihrem Haus Dann möchte ich Sie zu waschen und legte auf einigen der Kleidung Ihres Vaters. Ich brauche nicht Ihre Figur Unordnung mit ihren Gehirnen." We will get our meals, and eat in your home


Then I want you to wash up and put on some of your father's clothing. I don't need your figure messing with their brains. Somehow a small chuckle finds its way into these words after they've fallen from my teeth. It feels hallow though, empty.


I gather the cluster of my guns and throw one to each private, their wide innocent eyes staring into the fire as they laugh and eat their meals. "Clean and reload them." I say before they can speak, and I thrust my blood-soaked jacket into the fire. "You." I point to another low-ranking soldier and he freezes, staring at me with intense eyes. "Follow us". I command, and he looks around confused for a moment before nodding slowly.

 

[FaithWynters]

For the moment, I am surprised when he throws himself off of the end of the truck. He has not answered me and I wonder if that means he doesn’t want my help. The soft look that has recently come to rest on my face turns into a soft frown. Did he not think me capable? Did he still not trust me? I watch as he looks from me to the men curled up around the fire. Was he afraid of what these men would think? I can feel my heart drop a little bit. If I am such an embarrassment then why the hell did—He begins to speak and it cuts my thoughts short. I noticed the frown that has mirrored mine; his is much more deep cut into his face.


His words bring a hot flush to my face. The frown I had before flattens into a look of embarrassment. I look away from the man for a moment to stare at the nameless faces of the men that watch us. They await orders, I am sure, but now, every ally that looks at me makes my skin crawl. I look back to James. The flush has danced a light pink across my cheeks.


I listen quietly to his German. For a moment, I wonder if these men know the language like he does. I never expected an American to be able to have a conversation with me in my native language like he does. It is a pleasant surprise. We don’t have to go through a translator to get our ideas across. With the promise of a warm meal I can feel my stomach cringe in its excitement. Even though I had a good meal the night before, the events of the morning have starved me.


I give him a zealous nod before readjusting myself. I use my arms to vault myself off of the back of the truck and into the mud. I land lightly, but mud jumps up my bare legs and spreads out from the impact. I look down and smile. It squishes between my toes and brings the chill back to my feet. I look back up. James has been ordering some of the other men around. I wonder how highly ranked he against these men. They all stare at him wide eyed and do as he says. I assume that he has power over them. I straighten my night down on my body before walking a few feet ahead to meet up with where James has stopped to command another soldier.


“Ich gehe durch Emiline” My name is Emiline.


I break my silence with my first introduction. Before now, there has been neither time nor opportunity to tell him my name. As I have learned his, he has yet to learn mine. I continue to smile as I begin to follow his lead. I step on hard things in the mud, and I flinch at the feeling. My feet are not used to being bare in the dirt like this. I just hope that I don’t step on a piece of glass or a nail or something.


“Ich werde Kleidung meines Vaters tragen, aber ich bin immer noch viel kleiner als er war.” I will wear my father's clothing, but I am still much smaller than he was.


I want him to know my compliance with his orders. Even though he acts pleasant toward me and seems to be looking out for me, I must remember that I am still not one of them. I am not a soldier fighting. I am not even technically on the ally side. I am still part of Germany. It is me and I cannot change that. I cannot stop these men’s bias. I must continue to remind them of my obedience.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

I glance from her body to the thin soldier's who has taken up space next to me. His hair is a deep red and his eyes a light blue. Freckles clustered all over hid white skin are distracting my focus, and I have to glance into the distance for a quick second to regain my train of thought. Her name swims in my mind, and I want to feel it on my teeth, but my stomach is tied and that food is making my mind sag.


"Get the lady a fresh hot meal, Private." I command, and he stares at me with a confused wide-eyed expression. Like he has no idea that the mixture of blood and grit on my face compared to his freshly shaven clean figure, is enough evidence to signify I own his ass.


"Do you have shit in your ears?" I ask, only to have him glance around at the other men who have started quickly checking and polishing my equipment.


"No Sir." He says quietly, defeated, and walks away with his chin high. As if he hadn't just been humiliated by the others, who are clearly trying to stifle a laugh.


But one stares at me with an angry sense of dignity.


"You taking that Kraut for a spin?" He asks, scooping up his beans with a piece of white bread. He shovels it in his mouth and licks his fingers, eyes traveling up Emiline's legs. I stare him down as he chews with a slack grin in his face. He's also covered in our signature battle skin, flakes of dried blood falling from his cheek as he scratches his chin. This man must have been just barely behind our operation.


Just a few hours short.


I wonder what he's seen compared to what I have. I wonder if he hasn't just been pushed into the mud a few times, like a little pig. "Shut up and eat."


"Master Sergeant's looking for you." He replies, pointing at me but continuing his frenzied gawk at Emi's body.


I grab her by the arm and tug her behind me. I glance down at her bare feet and quickly grasp her in a bridal hold, it feels foreign and familiar.


I brush the conflicting emotions away and carry her to the front door.


After putting her down gently I open the front door and am met with a cluster of heavily decorated men. They stare at us as we walk in, eyes narrowed.

 

[FaithWynters]

The words that flow from his lips are fast. He speaks fluently as he looks over this boy. He looks to be young like us, but his face shows some sort emotion that I really don’t understand. He has said nothing as James thrusts orders at him. I only really catch one word meal. That’s the only word my mind processes. When the silence continues, more barking orders escape his lips. I watch wide-eyed as he looks at the man. He seems to be very much above these men that stare at us in some strange awe. Before I know it, the boy is gone.


I don’t dare speak. These men have their own hierarchy here that I do not belong in one bit. It is not my place to try and say something right now. Besides…I have nothing to say. I just listen to the foreign words in an attempt to learn and soak up as much as I can. Half these words I don’t understand. I can get the emotions from the way they speak, but unless I concentrate on only that, I cannot understand the sentences they roll together.


"You taking that Kraut for a spin?" Kraut…The word sends fire through my veins. I know they are talking about me now. I perk up a little and turn to see the man who has now spoke. The other words are gone to me. What does he mean…”For a spin”? Separately, I understand the words as I roll them over in my mind, but I don’t understand what he’s talking about. For a spin….The words roll over in my mind.


I can feel their eyes burning into my skin. If their gaze could, they would make bright red marks across my bare legs and arms. I can feel my stomach curl, but it no longer sickens me from the hunger. It sickens me to know that I am an object of every single one of these men’s desires. I shoot a death stare at the one that still watches me…Kraut. The word pops in my head like popcorn.


He eats like a pig. Stares like a pig. Looks like a pig… Of course he’s a pig—he’s American. I scold myself for such thoughts, the man that stands here and shoots harsh words back at the man is American too. He does not look at me like the rest do. He is no pig yet…he is American.


I am finally torn away from the man that eats with his hands; he is just another nameless face. James has grabbed my wrist and pulls me forward; back to my old home. He seems to realize how the mud squishes between my bare toes because he stops and picks me up. I can’t help the quiet yelp. This position feels uncomfortable to me. It is not his place to treat me with such generosity; it must not look well upon him in front of his subordinates.


“Ich ein Kind war einmal. Ich spreche nicht über zu Fuß auf eigene Faust. Lass mich runter, James.” I was a child once. I am not above walking on my own. Put me down, James.


My accent changes the feeling of his name in my mouth. Mixed with my words it seems almost…natural. Before I can convince him that I can walk, we are on the front steps of my home. I shoot him a look in an attempt to lighten the mood and show him I was fine, but he pushes on and opens the door. I’m not sure he sees it. Once we step inside, I’m not sure I care.


My breath gets caught in my throat. Now, it is not only one enemy within my home. There are multiple men standing within the entrance way, staring at us. They all look like they are highly decorated. I do not know if they are higher than James, but I can't dare take a gamble. I can feel their eyes burning into me. The way these men look at me is nothing like the looks that burned through me outside. The looks have turned from lust to what only feels like hatred to me. I am sure they are aware of who I am. They know I am the little German girl that helped one of their men infiltrate her father’s home and take him captive. They know that I cannot be trusted. They know I am the enemy.


I cross my arms behind my back. It is a stance I have taken many times before. Mother looked me over before I was allowed to leave the house when I was younger. She would make me stand by the door, my hands behind my back, as she looked over my hair and my dress. She would smile at me and fix small things. She would make me say a quote from a book or a speech that I had memorized from my studies. She looked over every single detail of my body and if I wasn’t proper enough, she would give me a good whipping. I still remember looking at my pale skin, slashed with red whelps from the cane she would use. I wouldn’t be allowed outside either.


I tilt my head down, and I pick a single piece of the flooring. I don’t tear my eyes away from the wood. I don’t dare speak. These men think they are above me—just like mother. If I do not pass their inspection, I might be in for a punishment, but I’m sure they won’t just beat me. I’m sure death is still not off of the table for me if I am still perceived as a threat. My eyes catch sight of the lower half of my body: The thin white slip that is stained with blood and covers part of my thighs, the dried specks of blood on my pale thighs and around my knees, the mud that has caked onto my feet and the splatters that run up my shins. They must see me as some pathetic waste of life. My mind is running crazy with harsh conclusions and fear.

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

General Fitzroy stares at me with one clouded piercing blue eye, the other a deeper more defined shade. Coronal J. Hendrickson is positioned in a large leather armchair, his pistol poised on the strategy-clad table. The smell of whiskey makes my head swim slightly. My back stiffens almost instinctively, hand falling to my brow in a salute.


"Private : First class, James B. Jacobs of First Platoon." The words fall from my teeth without my noticing.


"At ease." An even higher ranked man mumbles, but is facing away from us pouring a glass of amber liquid.


I let my posture loosen slightly, but don't dare to speak as the General clears his throat.


"First Platoon...." he says as if he's mulling the sound over in his mouth. The repeated word is making my vision blur around the edges, threatening to let the memories break the surface. "I apologize for your loss. There were... some good men on your Platoon." He says 'your' as if I had lead them into battle, as if I were a hero. He stare at eachother in a moment of silence, as if the whole room had taken a short breath to remember all the dead corpses pulling at my heels.


"You've been promoted to Sergeant." He says finally, speaking the truth I'd known a long time ago. I was one of the only remaining survivor of Operation Torch. Wardaddy's eyes flash behind my lids.


"What about the girl?" Another man I've never seen is eyeing her with one silver hue, his other is tucked behind a thick leather eye patch.


Without noticing, I stand in front of the German girl, my hand clasping around her wrist. Then, I start to speak. I cram every word I can into one breath, and then gasp for air before continuing. I tell them everything from the time I reach the Schultz estate, up until now.


It takes them a few moments to absorb the information. They exchange knowing glances at eachother before the eyepatched man speaks. "Wash up, change, and eat. I'll send a Private to fetch you once we have an answer."


Except....I never asked a question.


They were deciding her fate.


I can't tell her that.


I lead her up the stairs without a word, meeting a Private unloading boxes of fresh uniforms in her father's now vacant room.

 

[FaithWynters]

I don’t dare say anything. The words that pass over my ears are harsh and unknown. The emotion that fills the words can easily be felt in the way they pass back and forth. There is sorrow, but also a hint of something else. It’s a nonchalance that sends a chill through me. It’s like they know that everything that’s happening to these men they will never have to face again. They have faced these horrors, and now, they can calmly sit back and wait as other men take on their hardships.


I must deafly listen to the words that fall on my ears. None of them make sense. Platoon? Loss. That one makes sense. Promoted? The words are hard to understand, so I just stand there, my eyes cut toward the ground. I know that they probably speak about something important. Whether it is my fate or his success, I do not know. Maybe it is a mixture of the two.


Then, I feel the grip of his hand around my wrist. I let out a quiet yelp as his hands press roughly into my soft skin. My eyes flash up to his face. He’s not even paying attention to me. He’s talking, words flow quickly from his lips. They stream together in a way that I still cannot understand. My eyes trail across the faces of the men and they look from me to James and back again. It’s as if they’re trying to determine whether the words he speaks are really true or not. I don’t know how I’ve had the courage to look up for so long, and after another moment, my eyes fall again.


Wash. Answer. Two words I understand. The second shakes me. What were they answering? I don’t look up as I feel the soft tug on my hand. I simply turn and walk away. I don’t want to ask any questions until I know that it is only me and James. I just want to be in this situation any more. The realization has hit me that they’re leading me away so that they can decide my fate. I haven’t thought about it before now. There are people above James. People he must answer to. People that will decide whether I live or die.


We reach the top of the stairs and we walk toward my father’s room. Another sharp stab goes through my heart. It’s the one place that I don’t want to go, but the strong hand on my wrist takes me there anyway.


“Ihre Vorgesetzten sehen noch einen Gegner.” Your superiors still see an enemy. It was a simple comment in passing; a soft sigh escaped my lips. I pulled my wrist away and pushed past him and into my father’s room. Inside is another man, and, for a moment, he looks at me a little surprised. There is a beautiful young woman in the room with him. I am so out of place. He must see his fellow soldier behind me because his confusion is resolved; he continues pulling uniforms out of the box, lining them out on the bed. “There is a Badewanne (bathtub) through that door.” The words still seem so unfamiliar on my tongue. I raise my thin arm up to point toward a door that leads off on the opposite side of the room. A slender finger is outstretched in the cool space lost in time as I am lost in thought.