Title: Died In Vain
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 523
Notes: Guarnere drabble! This is the first time I've ever written from Guarnere's POV so I hope I didn't totally screw it up :)
Died In Vain
When Guarnere pulled the letter out of Martin's jacket, he had no idea what he was about to read would change his life forever. He kept replaying that one sentence-killed at Monte Cassino- over and over again in his mind, while at the same time wondering where the fuck Monte Cassino was and why his brother had to die there.
It was then Guarnere decided he would do his absolute best to kill every goddamn Kraut bastard that crossed his path, and vowed to make sure his brother will not have died in vain.
If someone were to ask him what he remembered about the jump into Normandy, he would have replied 'nothin' much,' just that he was praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in any more to give him the strength to fight his best.
He was relieved, he guessed, to meet up with Lieutenant Winters and a few others from Easy Company after the jump. He was glad there was an officer present to take command but was a little sorry it had to be a Quaker like Winters.
He was pissed, later, at Malarkey for running his mouth to the new kid, Hall, about his brother's death; but was even more pissed when he saw the understanding and the pity in Winters' eyes after overhearing the conversation. Last thing he wanted was the Lieutenant thinking he was acting out of emotion. Ah, to hell with what the man thought, he could take care of his own damn self.
Though, he did have to say, he was mildly impressed at Winters' display of anger toward him. He wasn't even sure the man had it in him to yell and his respect for the Lieutenant climbed a notch or two after his show of temper, not that he'd ever let on to that fact.
Later, after the assault on Brecourt, when he and several others were sitting in the back of a truck eating the slop Malarkey had the nerve to call chow, he had to admit to himself he was feeling pretty goddamn good. He had food, he had booze, and he'd killed some of those bastards before they killed him.
His night got even better when Winters stuck his head in to see how things were going and took the bottle of alcohol when it was offered to him to everyone's amazement. His amusement was short lived, however, when he saw the weariness and pain in the Lieutenant's eyes and realized it was most likely due to the loss of Hall earlier that day.
Damn, he thought to himself, maybe he's not that untouchable after all.
And, as Winters turned to duck back out from under the flap, his offhand denial of his being a Quaker made Guarnere laugh for some unknown reason because, perhaps, maybe the man wasn't as perfect or oblivious as they had thought. And, as he watched Winters leave, he was left with the urge to call after him, to tell him not to worry, that neither his brother or Hall would have died in vain. He would make damn sure of that.