All he really knew at that moment was that he was wet, tired, soot was caked in his hair, and blood dripped from his clothes as much as the salt from the water made them stiffen. It was barely the eve of morning. He tried to move a shaky hand through his hair as he made his way through the now shallow water, but his focus needed to remain on moving his beaten legs to the rocks along the Jersey coast. How did this happen? His mind echoed, a tingle in his neck making his upper body shake and force him to fall to his knees, the brush washing his damp pants.
He'd just escaped his station on a u-boat, off the American coast, his orders to watch for boats to sink and push the American people further off the edge of fear. He hadn't had enough sleep the night prior, his lids had been trying to close too often, too heavy. It was all his fault, he kept telling himself, that he hadn't spotted that one ship with fucking torpedos, and now he was the only one to survive by blending in with the bloodied water and bodies, face down, while the rest of his crewmates were shot or drowned by the American retaliation force.
The crackle of bullets whizzed through his hearing, forcing his strained eyes to look up across what appeared to be brown beaches, the tide reaching a high, seagulls dancing amongst the waves and garbage littering the sand. Patches of grass decorated the land before dunes went straight up, by at least ten feet, rocks embedded in the land. The east coast. His throat was parched, the water below him taunting his cravings. The rocks, little islands protecting the beach, he just needed to get to them and rest. Please. Just for a few moments. Let me live, he begged a dead God. Let me redeem myself, his mind cried as his worn body reached the first island it could, laying across the jagged surface and letting his eyes close. "Save me," he murmured as his consciousness went under, the sun beating on his back and the hungry waves trying to drag him back out to it's grip once more…
"Hey!"
His body jerked in a nervous response at the noise. His vision was still blurry in the mid-afternoon sun, his throat unconsciously trying to swallow the nothing that had been in his mouth for at least two days. The German could see the faint outline of a man, however, and he appeared to be getting closer to him.
With the last strength he could use in his arm, Ludwig lifted the left side of his body and used his right to take the armband from his biceps. He had to survive and that wouldn't help him.
The struggle to get the revealing item off his arm continued as the man got closer, and Ludwig's faint heart began beating harder in his chest. The speed releasing adrenaline, giving the last strength he could use to rip the article off his arm and toss it in the water. He ripped off his medals as well. He couldn't take off his uniform, yet luckily it would look like an American officer's uniform, just tattered and bloody.
"Hey! You 'kay?" The man shouted once more, within Ludwig's sights. Ludwig still couldn't see properly, probably a side-affect of being dehydrated, but he could make out wind-swept blond hair, a tough frame, and a worried smile that became more anxious the closer he got.
"Dude, you don't look good." The American deadpanned as he was only two feet from Ludwig.
To which the German couldn't help but weakly laugh at, which came out more as a serious of pained grunts than expressions of joy. "That's because I'm not," he croaked back, hoping his German accent was disguised by the rasp of his throat.
"Jesus, where ya from, guy?" The blond asked worriedly, rushing the rest of the two feet to hold the unknown German in his arms. Ludwig could only grunt in response as his lids began to shut again, always in the face of danger it seemed. He was shaken until he opened his eyes again. "Hey, don't sleep now, got it? Let me get you back to my place, I'll help ya, 'kay?"
Ludwig looked up once more into the face of his savior. The guy was about as old as him, maybe a bit older, no more than 22. He had a nice face, square jaw, typical American nose, kinda thin, pink lips, and glasses covering the deepest shade of blue Ludwig had seen since being under the ocean in the u-boat. His skin appeared smooth except for the wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes and the in the middle of his forehead. He was so concerned for a stranger it made Ludwig's heart ache for some unknown reason.
Overwhelmed by emotion he couldn't express, Ludwig pulled the American's face near his with his free hand with the last of his energy and pecked the blond's nose. "Thank you," he whispered before closing his eyes once more in comfort, the scent of ocean and smoke filling his nose and the sound of waves lulling him into a peaceful sleep. The jittery American easily picked up the sleeping body and carried him back to his little beach hut in a hurry to save the man he'd just met.