Hello again! Sorry it took so long- long week at work, migraines and Edward writing... lol
But this one is long.
Um, tissues...wine, chocolate...maybe disclaimer there will be blood?
This is the last chapter of EPOV, and then back to BPOV... yes I may write another EPOV later on...
so let's see how he is:
~oo~~
We walked in the darkness for some time, ears alert and feet silent as we trod through the underbrush of the unknown French countryside. Our only assurance that we were even walking in the right direction our compasses we had clipped to our jackets.
We encountered little, gunfire in the distance or the simple yet eerie quiet that only made us more keen to meet up with more of our units so that we could feel less vulnerable out in the open with no knowledge of what lay in wait for us.
It was still well before dawn when we heard the tell tale cricket coming ahead of us. I pulled us up short and dropped my unit down into the overgrown grasses, listening and waiting before answering with my own cricket device.
Another click and then I heard a man call out before gun fire blazed across the field away from us. Just to our left, I heard the cursing of an English speaking man and calculated the distance while across the field return gunfire streamed towards us.
At least a dozen enemy troops held the far field.
At least, I was pretty sure they were enemies.
At the brief silence between shots, I called out hoarsely to the group of men to our left, hearing the response I wanted.
Friendlies.
Motioning my men towards them, we practically crawled to them as gunfire shot out again from the end of the field.
Another brief interlude and suddenly me and my men were sliding into a drainage ditch and coming face to face with some friendly faces.
"Wondered where you ended up," Whitlock retorted when McCarty and I slid in next to him.
Another battery of gunfire, this time coming very close had us all hunkering down.
"Winds took me pretty far off," I explained and passed Whitlock another round for his gun.
He looked far worse for wear- his head bandaged where a nasty gash still showed, and his right eye was partially closed from being hit hard. He was covered in dirt and mud, almost blending in to the ditch we hid in. But he was all business as he took in my group of men.
"They landed near me about a mile or two back," I explained briefly and looked off to his group. There were half a dozen men, all about as dirty as Whitlock, and all looking to him.
"What do you want to do Corporal?" he said, smirking.
I blinked at him.
"You're a corporal too, Whitlock. This is your call," I started.
He shrugged and glanced at the new men around us.
"It's all a matter of semantics now, isn't it? None of us have done this before," he grumbled and ducked again with the new barrage above our heads. Grimacing, he turned from me t shoot at our enemy. His men followed his lead, spraying the far field with haphazard fire.
I looked to my men and nodded, sliding in beside Whitlock to take position. I understood why he was dirty then when I felt the damp ground soak my knees and elbows.
"Do you know who you're firing at?" I asked as I aimed towards the hedgerow far ahead.
"Confused unit of Germans that came down the road behind the trees there," he said and pointed towards where we had come. "They ducked for cover when we opened fire. Been here for over an hour shooting at each other."
"we need to get around them and cut them off," McCarty chimed in. "If they have trucks, who knows how much ammo they have."
Whitlock and I nodded and I pulled a couple of my men to me, signalling how we'd maneuver around and try and cut them off. One last nod to Whitlock and McCarty and I with my men were slinking off in the dark, around and towards the enemy.
My body was chilled to the bone from the wet earth soaking in, and yet I was sweating. Controlled breaths were the only thing to keep me from hyperventilating. Nothing but our target was on my mind as we moved, bullets passing above our heads and cold wet earth below us.
We were within several yards when the gunfire changed. Another volley, somewhere behind the target suddenly shot through the night, and soon we heard the screams of the Germans. I pushed my team down just in time as a group of fleeing Germans broke from the hedgerows ahead of us.
Guns aimed, instinct in place.
I don't remember firing.
I heard the guns around me go off, felt the recoil of my own.
But my eyes were frozen on the men in front of us as they fell.
A few shots from them, screams and then down into the wet earth they went.
I had never shot a man before. But my gun had fired, and they had fallen.
I felt an eerie disconnect as I pulled the trigger.
As I watched them fall in front of me.
Then more gunfire from the bushes, another man bursting out and falling.
No time to think, just aim and shoot. Before you got shot.
My eyes tracked every man as they fell, wide eyed and clearly visible even in the dark.
Gunfire again, and this time I heard a cry near me.
Dragging my eyes from the falling bodies before me, I found one of my men, the one who had bandaged my shoulder, slumped near my feet. I crawled closer to him, reaching for him with my injured arm to pull him closer.
He straightened out, the blood gushing from his neck as he grasped and clawed at the wound. Everything faded away as I focused on him, dragging him back under the brush to afford us a little cover.
"I can't," he gurgled and his eyes went wide. "Help."
I reached for the wound, knowing as soon as my cold and muddy fingertips touched the heated fluid rushing out of him, he didn't have long.
"I didn't," he stuttered and grabbed at my chest gripping the jacket and my letters underneath with a death grip.
"It's okay," I lied. "You'll be okay."
"Didn't tell her," he groaned and his breath came in hiccups.
"Didn't tell her?" I said, forgetting everything around us, wanting to focus on him and what could be his last words.
"Love her. Didn't tell her," he gasped and gripped my jacket harder, ripping at the tape and bindings that held my precious letters to me. "Tell her for me."
His body shuddered and his eyes watered, the blood running through both our hands now as he grasped onto his neck.
"Tell her," he murmured and took another wet breath.
I nodded and watched as his face relaxed slightly.
His hand slipped from his neck and he reached under his jacket with shaking hands, fumbling for something inside. His body shuddered again and his hands slipped with the wet, until he dragged one out from under his coat, a crumpled envelope in his grip. He shoved it towards my chest, over my own letters.
"Tell her….love her…I….tell her."
The hand with the letter slipped down my front, still clasping it tight. I watched as his eyes widened only slightly, staring into mine with so much intensity. And then, like the sun setting in the sky, his eyes dimmed, becoming unfocused as he gave in to death.
I had never watched a man die before.
And here, in this godforsaken place, with a man I didn't know, I watched as his life slipped through my fingers. Forgotten were the bullets flying past, the yelling and the sudden quiet.
I watched the man's eyes dim until they became almost glassy and unfocused on anything. His mouth sagged, and his body became heavy against me
He was gone.
"Masen, we're clear."
I hardly registered McCarty speaking somewhere beside me.
"Reinforcements, we're clear. All the Germans are dead."
And the man in my arms had asked me to tell her.
He had kept his letter close to his heart, like me.
"Masen."
I dragged my eyes from the dead man in my arms and looked up to find McCarty and the rest of our small unit standing above us, looking down at the man in my arms.
"We need to get going," McCarty said a little more gently. "He's gone,Masen."
Did we just leave him?
Like the Lieutenant in the field?
It was so much harder after talking with this man, and watching him die.
He had asked me to tell her.
I gently extricated the blood soaked envelope from his fingers, swallowing down the bile at the thought that it could have been me asking.
"He has more in his pocket," one of his team said and nodded towards where his other hand was tucked under the jacket.
I opened his jacket and found what he had been struggling to grab.
A small bundle of letters, tied to his body with medical bindings.
A bundle like mine.
"He was going to ask her to marry him before he left, but he chickened out."
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath.
A few hours into this mission and already I had seen enough.
"We need to get moving soldiers, bridges to take!" a man somewhere behind us bellowed.
"Come on Masen," McCarty said and offered me a hand.
I reached in to the man's jacket and took his letters, and his tag, adding it to my collection of the dead. McCarty helped me up and nodded towards the man at our feet.
"He won't be our last, Masen. But you'll always remember him," he said and stepped away towards the group of men forming.
I looked down at the man once more and realized I didn't even know his name. I dug out the dog tags, peering at the names on the two. I didn't know which was which.
T. Crowley
J. Jenks
"Let's go, Airborne! Let's move."
Instinct took over once again.
I moved into formation, not looking back.
As soon as I could talk to the man barking orders, I'd hand him the dog tags and relinquish my duty to them. The letters I shoved into my pocket with the tags and wiped away the blood still on my hand, marking up my muddy jacket more.
There was that disconnect again.
Instinct took over as soon as we started to march.
Away from the dead.
Away from life.
Away from myself.
There was a disconnect. Because if there wasn't I'd end up like them.
~~oo~~
Looking out over the village, I felt a sense of pride as the young boys ran across the road, yelling something I couldn't understand from the bell tower.
The fight for Carentan had been bloody.
Every day had been bloody.
I lost count of the dead I saw.
The ones I killed, and the ones that died beside me.
Couldn't think about it.
I had to stay alive.
Since that first night, I had felt something change in me.
War changes people.
That disconnect I had felt the first night was still there. It had hardened me.
The dawn of our first day in France, we had seen just what we had done. Hulled out buildings from the bombings.
Dead paratroopers, still in their chutes.
We passed them on our way to where we were needed.
No time to collect their belongings. Not our job.
Disconnect.
Dead Germans, and more as the day progressed.
Night into day, day into night. We fought.
I don't remember sleeping.
Dreams?
Yes.
Nightmares.
Wide open eyes that glazed over.
Not the first I'd see.
McCarty had been right.
Another of my men, another 501st died the next day.
Whitlock nearly lost his head when a mortar exploded close by. Three died around him. He walked away.
But there was that disconnect.
Day to night, night to day. We fought.
Dead and more dead.
Orders and we took them.
Villages passed.
Bridges taken.
Our troops passed, heading inland.
And we followed.
Orders followed.
Disconnect.
And now we were here.
Carentan.
Roads leading inland, and we had freed the town. Tanks and trucks barrelled through and we held the main roads.
Too many dead to count to take the town.
Too many to count.
Now here we were.
"Mail call down in the mess," Whitlock called from the lower level of the bell tower.
I looked down at the letters in my hands and paused.
One to Bella.
One to a Lauren Mallory.
He had asked me to tell her.
I swallowed and tucked the letters into my pocket, nodding to Felix who was just coming onto watch. I climbed down the stairs and met up with Whitlock as we exited out onto the street. He handed me a cigarette and I took it gratefully.
Something I had picked up quickly to ward off the stress.
"You finish it?" he asked.
I nodded.
"What did you say?"
I took a long drag of the cigarette and nodded to the boys that cut across us in the street.
"I just told her he died thinking of her. He loved her," I replied, Crowley's eyes in my mind again.
I had seen the regret and the desperation in them when he had spoken.
He hadn't said his peace to his girl.
I pulled out the letters, turning them over and over in my fingers.
"You wrote to Bella, too?"
I nodded, taking another drag.
It was a strange feeling, writing to her again.
We hadn't had time for so long. I had pushed her away for days. Weeks?
How many days was I here?
I had no idea.
Days, years. I really didn't know. Time was nothing now.
But starting a letter to her had been hard.
I didn't know what to say.
There was a disconnect.
It was different.
All the things I had said in my last letter, would she believe me?
Should I have said them to her, having no idea what I was asking of her?
I knew now.
Seeing Crowley in his last breath.
And knowing that he had left her behind.
I couldn't do that to Bella.
I had every intention of sending this letter to her.
Saving her from what I expected Lauren Mallory would go through.
It was best.
Clean break. Before it had ever started.
The pain in my chest strengthened, feeling light and bared because it's armor was firmly tucked away in my bag. I wouldn't wear it after the first night.
I wouldn't hurt her.
I'd mail this letter.
And end it.
The mess hall was full of men, waiting for the CO to start reading out the names. I didn't expect to hear my name. Not here.
Sure she wrote letters. She always wrote letters.
Too many.
But I was here. I was sure there were a ton back in England, waiting for me.
Those would stop.
I fingered my letter to her in my hand.
Disconnect.
End it.
It was better this way.
She deserved better.
I was different.
"Masen! Edward A!"
That pain in my chest fought its bonds I had tightened and I moved towards the outstretched hand, holding several letters. I was struck off guard by the stack.
Always too many.
"Lucky man, Masen," the CO said and grinned as he handed me letters.
I nodded and took them, pausing over the two letters I intended to mail off. One to Bella, one to Crowley's girl.
"You got mail to go out?"
Bella always sent too many letters.
I was sending one.
The last one.
"Just this one, sir," I said and handed him one and pocketing the other.
Just the one letter. I had promised. The other...
I understood Crowley then. It was too hard. even as resolved as I had been.
I'd mail it. After.
He took the one letter from me and was calling the next man, leaving me to the bundle I my hands. Whitlock mentioned something about beer but I ignored him, heading out into the sun light, my heart beating hard like it did when I was preparing to rush out of my foxhole.
Why did she have to write so many?
It made it all the harder.
I slipped into the barn by our lodgings, wanting a quiet place to sit and read. I promised myself I would only read them once, then get rid of them.
She deserved better.
I didn't want her to get a letter from Whitlock or McCarty explaining I had died with her on my thoughts. I wasn't Crowley.
Gun tucked against the wall I eased myself down into the hay of a stall and looked through the envelopes. I found the latest ones, and swallowed hard at the date.
June 5th
She had sent a number right at that time.
What would she say?
I opened one and read it greedily.
It was warming up in New York.
She was worried about me.
She had danced with a sailor.
My heart tightened. And then relaxed some at her awkward description of hurting him.
She was dancing with other men. It hurt.
I had no right.
I gritted my teeth and read on, trying without success to harden my heart.
And then there it was.
Just one word.
But that one word tore down every wall I had put up.
Disconnect… connected.
Numb, sensitized.
She reminded me in just that one word.
Yours.
My throat tightened and I felt that tighteness grip me harder.
No armor to protect me.
She pierced my heart with that word.
Yours.
I pushed it aside, thinking it was just a word.
I couldn't hope.
I wouldn't hope. For her sake.
But she knew how to tear it all to pieces.
Because the next letter I opened had what I most hoped for and dreaded.
It fell out onto my lap as I unfolded the letter.
Fallen face up.
Crisp.
Clean.
Innocent.
Smiling up at me.
A face so beautiful. A smile that felt like it was meant for me.
Eyes that sparkled in the sun.
Bella.
She was much more than beautiful.
She had told me in her letter. In her offering.
One word.
One picture.
And the disconnect was gone.
Bella had reminded me.
So easily, she cleared my head.
I pulled out the letter I had for her, looking at her smiling face and then the letter.
Her eyes.
The letter.
Her lips.
My disconnect in my words.
Her smile.
And ripped the letter up.
I was connected again.
I knew what I wanted.
My heart beat faster, looking at the girl who made me whole.
Who helped guide me where I wanted.
I curled up with her picture, the sunlight catching it just right.
I don't know how long I sat there. Had no idea I had been driven to tears until the hay stuck to my cheek.
All the emotions I had shoved to the dark corner of my head came tumbling out in a torrent.
All my fears, all my wishes, all my desires.
All I wanted.
Laid bare by her words and her strength.
And her face.
I wanted to make her smile.
I wanted to feel again.
I wanted to go home.
I wanted Bella.
~~oo~~
AN: So no history lesson here- just extra Edward. But if you are interested- Carentan in France was a major city that Airborne troops fought to claim so that Allied forces could move further inland. It was a bloody battle.
Edward's disconnect and the time jump helps to illustrate (i hope) how many soldiers dealt with the fighting they saw. Shutting off human emotion, pushing away from the things they desired. That way when death came, there was no regrets. Having someone die in your arms can either make you want to run and live, or disconnect and not be afraid if you go. But Edward didn't want Bella to suffer. (mini New Moon here)
Leave it to her to pull him back in.
More soon.
We will see what he said in his letters Pre- D-Day coming up.
Love to all! Thanks so much for waiting!
MWAH!
steph