Gerard:
"Töte den Feind! Sie ihr Blut vergossen Lassen!" a soldier with a heavy German accent whooped. It made sense. He was German, trying to kill my team, my Mikey, and me. And we were trying to do the same to him. He succeeded with one out of his three objectives. Pretty much two, but I'm still here.
I was on Omaha beach, Normandy. We were suffering a lot of casualties and we had drastically less weapons than them. But we still fought. Shrapnel whistled past my ears and bombs created flashes of light in my eyes. I was in such an uncomfortable position, sitting on my left leg and pretty much popping my knee out of place. I turned back towards the Germans and fired off a few rounds. I eliminated a few who trying to kill me. We were the Omaha sector, the first round of American soldiers dispatched. Mikey sat behind a giant piece of tank debris that was quite a distance away.
"Gerard, I can't go over there! It's too dangerous!" he tried to shout over the constant ringing of large weaponry. I sat behind a sand and barbed-wire rampart that was quite a distance away from Mikey, my best friend. A hand grenade exploded behind me, knocking me onto my stomach. I couldn't breathe. I gasped for breath for what felt like hours.
"You have to run, Mikey! I need you! Please! You have to stick with us!" I already felt sore all over. This was torture, and it was only the beginning. I was again upright and shooting so many people, taking so many lives…
"I'll get shot, Gerard! I know you don't want to lose me, and I don't want to lose me either! Just hang in there!" Mikey fired a few shots in the general direction of the adversaries. I prayed he would be here and alright.
Mikey:
I was so scared. I don't know how Gerard made it. He's just lucky, I guess.
"Hold on Gerard, I'm coming!" I yelled. I decided not to let fear drive me away now. Not in the middle of war. My team needed me. A tingling sensation filled my torso as I smothered all fear inside of me as much as I possibly could. I puffed up my chest and started to run towards Gerard and the Captain, just to fail once again.
Gerard:
"Mikey! No!" I screamed. Mikey collapsed to the ground, a large chunk of his stomach missing. Blood spattered around him like a terrible fountain of death. I couldn't sit there and watch him die.
"I'm coming Mikey! Don't let up on us!" I gasped, now sobbing and blinded by tears. I started to surge forward, but was pulled back by my arms.
"Don't go, Gerard. We'll just lose two lives as opposed to one," said Captain Iero. He and another soldier pinned my arms to the cold ground. I started screaming, shouting, crying. I can't sit here and lose my Mikey. He was one of the only things I had left in this cold world. My arms tingled numbly, but I still pulled and tugged to try and save him. He lied on the gravelly earth, screaming of pain. I had to save him. It felt like someone shot me through the heart, and I had to suffer for him.
Mikey:
It almost felt like yesterday.
Gerard was sitting awkwardly by himself while the others flirted with the girls across the room. It was the day before deployment. Nurses and captains and commanding officers sat on the opposite side of the soldiers. I snuck over beside him. "Nervous?" I said, startling him. He nodded fiercely, like he was determined to answer me as truthfully as possible. I nodded gently back, looking away. A man walked on the stage to the center.
"Ladies and gentleman, we are now here to send these brave boys off to our base in France to repel Nazi forces. Uh, does anyone have any music experience in here?" he turned around to prove the absence of a proper band. There were only instruments. I raised my hand, along with Gerard, Captain Iero, and a few other soldiers. He waved us up and handed us some sheet music.
"You only have to play this. Have at it," he explained promptly. I picked up a beautiful bass, but it had no licensing name on it. So, I called it the Cherrywood because it was kind of a cherry red mixed with oak wood. Gerard took the vocals, I stepped up to the other microphone, Captain Iero grabbed the rhythm guitar, Sergeant Toro picked the lead guitar, and one other soldier got drums. I looked briefly at the music and dropped it on the ground, as did Gerard. I had mine memorized, as he appeared to have also done. I started off and the sound out of the Cherrywood was so smooth and silky. It was beautiful. Gerard was pretty good too. The other soldiers danced with the nurses, and we played along in harmony. When we finished, the soldiers lowered their arms and left, not looking back. We climbed off the stage as the women stood, crying for the man they had danced with. As we followed them, I looked back, just in case I never came back.
"You're good," he said softly on the boat to our base. He was staring straight ahead, presumably at nothing. I smiled.
"Thanks. You did good, too. Did you memorize the lyrics?" I asked. That was still gnawing away in my head. He nodded gently, still deep in thought and spacey.
"We should start a band. When we come back," he suggested, now looking at me. He had blazing green eyes that looked wise and naive at the same time.
"That's a good idea. I like your positive thinking."
"It's just a band request."
"I meant about when you said 'when we come back' and not 'if we come back.' I admire that."
"Oh. Thanks. I guess."
Shyest kid I ever met. But he is also eager to share his thoughts and feelings. Like on the fifth day in France. We were in the barracks, because of curfew. Everyone was already snoring quietly.
"Do you have any kids?" Gerard asked softly. He was one bunk above me.
"Yeah, one. His name is Thomas. My wife, Alicia, had him on June 4th. Already three, my boy is. Want to see him? I got a picture with me now, actually," I offered.
"Sure," he replied and gingerly took the picture. A few seconds later, his hand fell again with two pictures instead of my one.
"There's me and my girlfriend. She's pregnant, we just don't know when the baby's due. We just got the results back and then I was shipped off here." The picture was black and white, but it was more of a brown and tan color. It had been folded many times, judging by the creases. He had his arm wrapped around a beautiful young woman in her early twenties, like him. They smiled genuinely and affectionately. It reminded me of us, Alicia and me, when we were first dating in high school.
"Do you think we'll be back before their birthdays?" he asked me. I thought for a second.
"There certainly is a good chance of it, if we ever get this over with."
"I hope Lynz doesn't have her baby before I get back. I want to be there to see my baby's eyes open; to watch him witness the world for the first time. I wanted to propose before I left, but this all happened so quickly. I had just come home from looking for a ring, when the letter arrived. She got so sad and everything, but she knew I had to come. I owe a debt to my country and this is how I'll repay it, I guess." I absorbed his words. To not even be there when your child is born? I couldn't have done it. I would have ran or swam or walked or crawled back to make sure I witnessed Thomas come into this world.
"Have you written any letters to her?" I asked. This time, he was the silent one.
"I was thinking about it, and I really want to, but she was getting so worked up about me leaving. If she got a letter in the mail and it had anything identifying it as a government letter, she would bust into tears. I can't make my baby girl cry," he said, his voice getting groggy. This was probably a tender subject for him still.
"What should we name the band?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away.
"Huh?"
"The band we're making when we get discharged. What should we name it?"
"Oh, I remember now. I actually had one, but I don't think you'd like it."
"What is it?"
"The Rebels."
"I like it; very punctual and sharp."
"What?" I don't think he knows what that means.
"I said it was very deep. I can tell it has meaning."
"Thanks," he replied. He sounded tired. As soon as that thought registered, I heard slight snoring sounds coming from above me. I smiled and went off to sleep too.
