The cheering had died down now, and Jack thought that it was the best time to join his fellow comrades outside in preparation for the show. Whether or not he was going to stick around and watch it he wasn't sure, but he knew how to build the stage better than anyone. Scrunching up the sheet of paper which had been vandalised with the word "Rose" over and over again, he threw it into the trash can beneath his bunk, trying to let go of unwanted memories that would cause unwanted pain. Why couldn't the troops have cheered "Emmanuelle"? It was longer, and Rose was perhaps easier to chant, but Emmanuelle wouldn't have brought about such a dark cloud in Jack's already tempestuous mind.
Running a hand through his short, very badly chopped blonde hair, he walked over to the window, the hot sunlight penetrating the thin glass and warming the place up immensely. The view over the trees, down onto the courtyard and across the water was breathtaking. Jack had always wanted to travel further abroad than Europe. He just never assumed he would have to risk his life everyday and see such Hell in order to witness such Heaven. That was the way life had been for a long time now. In order to see the good, and for the good to truly stand out and leave an impression, you have to suffer the bad for a while.
From the well nested position of the temporary camp, hanging carefully from the edge of the mountain, masked by trees, and looking down protectively on the small town, Jack could see everything with a bird's eye view. The beach was mostly empty now, as both women had been carried up the hill by the rowdy soldiers and into the courtyard. Mr and Mrs Tripoli followed closely behind in their donkey drawn carriage. The blonde woman with the curves was screaming with delight, which Jack could hear and it made him smile a little. The dark haired woman already had her breasts on show and she hadn't been on the island 5 minutes. Jack saw who the true whore of the group was.
He understood that these women were actresses, and from what he had been told this Rose girl was sensational. Jack wouldn't know. After Polly died, going to the cinema wasn't exactly the top of Jack's priority list. Firstly, because Polly worked in a cinema, and secondly because watching movies just seemed like something happy people did, or men with their girlfriends. Jack wasn't happy, and he was alone.
Rose strolled along the courtyard, the middle of which was home to a glorious white fountain, adorned with sculpted cherubs, mystical looking Greek Gods, and all of them pouring vases of glistening water downwards, which was then brought up into the centre of the fountain and shot upwards in a gentle shimmering spray of silver. It truly was a magnificent piece of Art, and Mr Tripoli had made it himself with his father and grandfather. Rose gazed in awe at the tenderly carved and sculpted marble, whilst Emmanuelle sat on the edge of it with 5 men looming over her as she put one of their shirts on. A tall, dark haired soldier had offered her his shirt after an unknown crowd of the drooling dogs stole the upper half of her two piece bikini. No doubt they quickly ran off and put it under their pillow as a keep safe. Rose was still wearing her shawl, the courtyard being more shaded than the beach due to the buildings, the dominating mountain and the angle of the sun.
The rest of the soldiers were gone, and she could hear them disappearing off further into the trees, up a small section of the mountain, and towards a camouflage coloured building made of rusting corrugated metal and recycled pieces of wood and netting. Rose looked at the building, or what she could see of it, from the courtyard. This must have been the soldiers camp, as the building didn't fit in with the rest of the buildings here. It looked like it had been set up overnight, and it looked like it had been set up many times, looking worn out and re-used.
"Hey Rose!" Emmanuelle shouted, bringing the beautiful blonde out of her trance. "We're on in an hour!" She giggled, as one of the soldiers held her arm, kissed his way up the tanned skin, and then began to nibble her ear playfully, like a love-sick puppy, or a hungry dog. "They're just putting the stage together for us."
Rose thanked her and turned away, rolling her eyes over the sound of Emmanuelle's flirtatious tone winning over the sex-starved men around her. The soldiers had quickly realized, pretty much as soon as the yacht pulled up to the pier, who the harlot of the double act was. They winked at Rose and whistled as she walked by, but her gleaming wedding ring warded them off, and so they moved onto the next best thing, and the next best thing was waiting for them with more than open arms.
On the other side of the mountain was a large stretch of beach, private and unused at this time of the day, as the mountain blocked out the rays of the sun. The only time this beach saw light was from around seven o'clock in the evening until sunset. This was the beach where the stage was being built. This same beach had been used for the soldiers to practise shooting targets and defence strategies away from the civilians of the island days before. Although these men had been fighting for several years now, and they were all good fighters (to make it this far alive was proof of that) they could not afford to get complacent. The Germans were thinking up new ways of injuring, killing, and sneaking up on the Allies with each day that passed, and the Allies had to be ready for anything that came their way.
"Hey, Jack!" A deep voice bellowed from behind a large metal structure, half built and looking unsteady. "You couldn't give me a hand with this buddy, could ya?"
Jack dropped the red carpet he was currently rolling out and jogged over to his friend Alexander, who was having a difficult time trying to determine where a certain beam of metal should be placed. "Did you read the instruction manual?" Jack asked, crossing his arms as he inspected the ever-so-slightly swaying structure.
"There's an instruction manual?"
"I'll take that as a no." Jack smiled, sighed, and took the metal from Alexander's hands.
"Where did they get this thing anyway?"
"Demetrius and Desdemona like to use the stage when the island has celebrations. Music, dancing, weddings, that sort of thing." Climbing up a ladder with a measuring tape, Jack measured the distance between two poles that acted as a support for the stage, and jumping back down he measured the metal pole in Alexander's hands. "I'm pretty sure it goes along there."
Alexander took this onboard and ascended the ladder, finally slotting the pole into place with a sigh of relief. "Wouldn't you just love to live like this?"
"What d'ya mean?"
"Just... well, everything about this place! It's so calm and peaceful and beautiful... heaven on Earth."
"I guess it's alright... bit too hot for my liking." Jack cracked a half smile and began to walk away towards the carpet he had abandoned.
"Alright? Put it this way, I'd rather stay here than go to another war-torn battlefield next week."
These words stopped Jack in his tracks, and turning around he saw Alexander, still up on the ladder, and behind him working away happily, all singing and chatting and smiling were his fellow comrades. But after next week, how many would still be here to sing and chat and smile? "I can't disagree with you there, Alex... but we're fighting the Huns to make sure we can keep the world like this. If Hitler had it his way, this little island would have its population wiped out and the island would get turned into a breeding ground for a brand new Nazi race."
"But after the war... after all of the pain, and death and damage... the world won't be the same. The world will never be the same. This is a new world we're entering, and little pieces of paradise like this one are gonna be rare when we're done with the Huns."
"Seeing what we've seen makes us appreciate the little things more. Fighting for the little things as well as the big things will make enjoying them in the future even more worth while... we just gotta keep going one day at a time. And we have 7 days left of this, so let's enjoy it!"
Alexander beamed brightly. He liked talking to Jack. Jack was one of the more wise and grounded men out of all the soldiers on the island. He wasn't as playful and energetic as he used to be, but he was still Jack, and there was only so much an ordinary man could see until the slightest part of him died.
Alexander went back to fixing the stage, which was almost complete, and Jack began rolling out the shabby red carpet, leading from the grass verge above the beach, down the concrete steps, and along the beach towards the stage. As he rolled out this rough red fabric, he couldn't help but think of the men he had killed, the material running through his hands like blood. A river of red, like a scar on the perfect gold of this beach. Was this the world now? Was this the world that Jack was fighting for? Truth be told, he didn't know what he was fighting for. Not anymore.
He was only counting don't he days until his name was on the list of the dead. He had avoided death too many times, and as punishment for messing with the grand design, God had taken away everyone he loved. His mom and dad, Fabrizio, Rose, Polly, Gordon, and not to mention the countless friends who had been killed in the war.
Heaven was not a place on Earth. Heaven was a myth. It would take a miracle to bring Jack up from the emotional turmoil within his shattered mind.
