Lonely…..
They each sat in their respective prisons, each alone, each considering their options, their future or lack of future.
First Lieutenant Craig Garrison had returned from Belgium just hours ago. It had been a harrowing mission and he was glad it was over. He had been caught and had escaped but it had been pure luck. A guard dog had met up with a skunk, distracting two of the guards escorting him to a prison cell. That left just one and when he had sneezed twice, lowering his rifle, Garrison had made his move. What about next time? How long could he go on running these missions before his luck ran out? He could go back and lead a Platoon in the regular army but even then as the leader, the one in charge, he had had to remain aloof, apart from the men he had to command knowing that one of those commands, one of his decisions, could end one or all of their lives. It was a place he had always known he would end up. Command sat heavily on his shoulders. Even as a child he had been the leader. When the local boys got together he was in the lead. When they got into trouble it was up to him the take the blame or figure out how to fix the mess. He enjoyed being in command but what he was doing now with Special Forces was important. He wanted to continue but for how long? Would the day come when he lost his nerve or his luck ran out? He knew, no matter what, he could not leave but it was lonely working on his own.
Actor looked around his cell. It was better than most, he had been able to arrange better accommodations, a few luxuries that few other inmates had but it was still dismal in comparison to what he had had. The suite in the Grand Hotel de la Minerve had been his home for over a year as he had conned and wooed the rich and influential in Rome. The view of the roof terrace of the Quirinale clearly outlined against the sky never failed to please him. His stay at Hotel d'Argenson in Paris with it's proximity to the Notre Dame Cathedral was as enjoyable as it was profitable. His world had been filled with fine wine, good theatre, excellent museums and wonderful company. In hindsight he should have stayed in Europe instead of following the scent of new money in the new world. A young woman had led him to Los Angeles with promises of wealth but instead had set him up as a broker, a dealer in stolen clocks. Now here he sat in a eight by twelve cement cell with smuggled home brew, institution food, a limited library and little in the way of stimulating conversation. He knew it could be worse but it was lonely being away from the life you love.
Goniff remembered having many friends as a lad. His gregarious nature had drawn him to the neighbourhood group of children who were all about his age. As time had gone on the others had grown. He remained the runt, short, thin, little. One of the larger boys called him Tiny, or Tiny Tim. He had been picked on to the point he thought about giving up and leaving but his drive for companionship and need to be included had kept him there, wanting to be included but forever being pushed to the edges.
Then one day he had suddenly become popular. He had pinched a wallet that had money in it, not much but to a poor Eastender it was a lot. He shared, hoping it would impress the bigger kids and then they would be nice to him. It hadn't worked out that way. Instead they had taken the money and demanded he steal more or they would call the coppers on him. He stole another wallet and then another. The third was empty so they told him to go into the shop and nick stuff. He liked how they looked to him to provide but he realized that he was taking all the risks and they got all the goods. He began to back away. Finally he was on his own. Alone and lonely but at least what he stole he got to enjoy. At least when he gave his loot to his Mother she showed appreciation. He was on his own with control of what he did, where he went and what he took but it was lonely being without your mates.
Casino missed the sounds of family. When he lived at home he couldn't wait to get away, away from the sounds of voices, doors shutting, children laughing, crying, the sound of his old man snoring. Well he got away all right. Now there was just the sounds of other prisoners yelling, swearing, iron bars clanging shut, tin plates clattering and two of his neighbours snored worse than his old man after a wedding drunk. It wasn't until he was here, and was going to be for a long time that he realized that at home, in spite of the noise, he felt good. Home might have been noisy but it was home, where there was good food, sisters and brothers that loved him, when they weren't hating him, family. He missed them. Sure Mom came to visit once a month and sometimes Pop came too but it wasn't the same. How was he gong to survive this? There was no one here he could relax and shoot the breeze with like he did with his older brother, no girls to tease like his sisters' friends. Hell, he couldn't sit and argue politics like he did with his old man. That was all gone. It was lonely being away from family.
Chief looked at the sea of faces around him. All strangers. That was all they would ever be, strangers. It did not pay to get close to anyone here. There was too much at stake. Alliances formed and then shifted, friendships were broken, one who you thought was a friend turned you in for an extra slice of bread. There were some, he knew, enjoyed this game that was played. He saw the looks of pleasure on the face of the betrayer, saw the rage of the betrayed. Plotting revenge was all too common. The only way to stay out of the game was to stay away from everyone but that was impossible in prison. The only other way was to become invisible, talk to no one, form no alliances but this left you vulnerable. With no allies there was no one to watch your back, you were open to being beaten or framed or robbed. True, not all played the game but he wouldn't take the chance of getting burned. It was better to be alone even thought it was lonely being on the outside.
.
The war was over and the "six months, just like the rest of us" was over too. They had survived, all but the one who had died on their first mission. He was never mentioned, whether it was considered bad luck to refer to the dead or maybe it was because so early on in their association they had not come together as a team, as friends. But now they were associates, team members and friends. Rivalries had been worked out, friction that had been forced aside due to the higher drive of self preservation had dissolved as they had come to know each other better.
The newly promoted Major Craig Garrison sat back and sipped his cognac. Life was good. His long awaited Major's gold leaves looked good on his uniform. He was proud of his accomplishment and he owed it to the men who sat here with him. He thought back to the days before he was assigned to this team. They had been dark dangerous times, not that the missions he had undertaken with these men had been any easier but over time the relationship had grown. Instead of being alone he had backup, instead of having to do it all himself, Actor had stepped in and become his right hand. They were a team. He was no longer alone.
Actor replaced the decanter and took his seat. This was the life. He looked around the room at the paintings, the tapestries, the fine furniture. Here he sat surrounding by the trappings of the good life and it was all legal. He would have his parole years before he had expected. Because of his standing with the Army he was now in a position to work with high society whether it be Art Authentication and Repatriation or any of the many programs going on across Europe. He was back, thanks to these men, Garrison keeping him honest and the others alive. He no longer had to long for it's return, he was back to the life he loved.
As Goniff took a sip he looked over the rim to the mirror on the far wall. It was large and very fancy with bevelled edged and all but it was not the mirror that held his gaze but the reflection it held. He was sitting in the centre and to each side sat the men who had accepted him with or without his special skills. They had teased him and laughed at him but they had always helped him when he needed it, they came back for him. These guys were the best friends a guy could possibly have. He would never be lonely with these mates.
Casino leaned back and took a deep breath and released it. He was going to miss this place. It had been home for about two years. Home, not home where Mom and Pop lived but home. It would never be home there. After his stint in prison he would never be accepted the same. But here was home, or more rightly here was his family. He looked to the only man he had grudgingly looked up to. Yeah he looked up to him in a way. It took a while to figure out why he fought him so much, like he fought his old man. They were alike, both firm, in control. They were both leaders but unlike his old man this guy would admit when he was wrong. And Actor, an older brother he could actually depend on. Yeah, they were like family. He would never be lonely because now he was working with family.
Chief rose from in front of the fire. It was burning well, he could feel the heat on his face. He sat, continuing to watch the fire as the flames danced up from under the split logs, logs he and the others had split in the last few months. The evening was not that cool yet but there was something inviting about a fire, something that spoke to him and apparently to the others as well. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell. There was a trace of smoke but that was probably on his hands from starting the fire. It was so peaceful here that he allowed his mind to wander to other times and places, other fires. He heard sounds of laughter and even a comment about Indians dancing about the fire but it didn't matter, it was just Casino trying to get a rise out of him. Funny, the last guy who made fun of him was probably getting tired of drinking from a straw. It had taken time to realize that Casino made fun of everybody but he only defended his friends. And Casino defended him, not that he really needed defending but it was nice to know he had friends. And Garrison, and even Actor. The guy was so far above him in class but he treated him as an equal. He had been accepted and though he had waited, there were no games just us against them. With these guys he wasn't lonely because he was no longer on the outside.
The five men raised their glass and toasted friends, family and the best covert team in the whole Allied Army. With these men on their side their futures were looking up.