51.
London, United Kingdom
August 26th, 1944
After debriefing Colonel Phillips on the findings at the u-base, to which even the old man had been astonished with disbelief, the Commandos are given a few days leave. They're all exhausted, with heavy bags under their eyes. Steve and Bucky's stomachs are rumbling loudly. Dugan's aching for a cigarette to calm the nerves, and likewise Falsworth is waiting for a stiff drink.
They take the few days to rest and recoup. Steve and Bucky return to the hangar multiple times to visit the creature and help Howard, but to seemingly no avail. Isabel spends the majority of the days in the labs for Howard trying to work on the serum while the scientist tries to work out what to do with the Hydra. She isn't entirely inept in the labs, but she knows the serum they're working with, or at least what they've got of it so far, well enough that she can continue for a few days without supervision. She's not surprised when she doesn't get anywhere, it's been that way for months, but it's still frustrating.
They all get called back into Phillips' office a few days later. They're still tired, exhausted muscles and minds and bodies, all the way down to the bone, but they've got a job to do and sometimes the work is few and far between. They'll take whatever they can get when they can if its going to make a difference.
Colonel Phillips' mouth is pulled down in his eternal frown as he waits for the exhausted Commandos to enter the room. "Good job out there on your last… different mission. Any news of how Stark is progressing? He isn't the best at communication," he asks them once they're all seated.
"It isn't going well, sir. The creature is still… firmly intact. But it... he... they have confirmed our theory of what happened," Steve replies. "It may be a while."
"I admire your generosity and mercy toward... them, Captain. Its more than I would do for them," Phillips admits. Steve nods. Phillips shuffles some papers, puts them aside, and then picks up a brown file. "I hope you enjoyed your few days rest because something's come up," he says, changing the topic. "Captain America specifically has been requested by the men on the front lines. You've got an assignment," he announces as he then slaps a map down onto the table in front of Steve.
"What is it, Colonel?" Steve asks. All signs of tiredness fade instantly as he picks up the map to inspect it.
It's a map of Germany, Austria and Switzerland, with a short line drawn across the border to indicate what Steve suspects are some in-use trench systems, and a large cross on one section. There's a mountain range along one side, and Munich is beyond the trench. The Allies must have been attempting to head through the Alps into Germany and make their way up to Berlin but were stopped by a station on the way.
"There aren't many trenches across Europe, but there are a few stations that somewhat resemble them set up to defend the most important areas. Right here, an Allied unit was stopped trying to get up toward Munich. They couldn't get around the enemy due to the mountain ranges on either side of the valley, so they set up shop. They've been there for nearly eight months and that ain't normal for this war. They've dug out a rather intricate system. They can't leave their position or else the Germans will be able to advance into Switzerland. They can't move forward because the German's defence is foolproof. We've tried to send bombers in to clear the path, but they get shot down immediately. The men on the front, they've described them as large canons. It's a hard predicament they've found themselves in. They happened upon each others' path and are now keeping each other at bay. And to make it worse, the Krauts on the other side have weaponry never seen anywhere else, something about blue lasers coming from these canons. Sounds like Hydra influence to me," Phillips explains.
"Must say, I'd be happy if I never stepped in one of those dingy campsites again," Dugan admits, scowling in disgust.
Bucky nods in agreement with his friend but he says nothing. "I thought Hydra weren't in with the Nazis; that they have their own agenda?" Bucky asks instead.
"That's what we thought, but with the way the war's going and how everyone's switching sides, its no surprise Hydra might be teaming up with them, or at the very least, the Nazis are investing in some of Hydra's weaponry," Phillips explains. "I'm sending you in to check it out, maybe help the fellas out. Not only will your presence increase morale, but perhaps you can take down the German side, give the Allies the kick start they need to get going again. If they can get through the line, they can advance further toward Munich and then Berlin. It'll still take them a long while to get there, but it's a step."
"Got it, Colonel," Steve says. "They want just me, or the whole team?"
"I'm sure they wouldn't be opposed to help from all of you. And even you, Miss Barnes, I hear their nurses are overrun. But its up to you and your team. You're the Captain."
Steve sighs, looking at his men and Isabel beside him. "I know how you all feel about going back out there properly. That fighting is different to what we've been doing. I haven't been like you men have, but I can imagine what it's like, and I get it," Steve says sympathetically. "But as much as it's lovely here with a bed and working shower, I think this is a good idea, at least for me to go. Those of you who don't want to come are free to stay here. I'm not forcing any of you."
"There's a car waiting out front to take you to the plane once your team is ready. I'm expecting a week's mission at the least, depending on how long you all decide to stay. Stay a while, if you want, we'll call you back to base if you're needed." Phillips stands then. "Oh, but don't get yourselves killed," Phillips tells them. "Good luck, Commandos," he says with finality, making his leave from the meeting room, out into the halls.
"He's tactful," Dugan mutters.
Steve stands to make his leave as well. "Anyone who wants to tag along, meet me in the lobby in 30 minutes. We'll hash it all out on the road. And you can sleep on the way there."
With that, Steve stands from his chair and heads up to his room to change, repack his bags and prepare his weaponry, presumably. There's a second of deliberation between the men and one woman, a round of stares and communication through raised eyebrows, before all of them stand in synchronisation to follow their Captain.
?, Germany
August 29th, 1944
The station is like nothing Isabel has ever seen before, and like nothing she could ever imagine.
She remembers her Dad telling her about fighting in the trenches, since they were the primary style of warfare in the Great War. He'd told her they stretched for hundreds of kilometres, an unbroken line of men along the Western Front. The sheer size of it had been overwhelming.
They're going into a trench of sorts, but its a little different to what her father described. This one is very hastily made under attack, slowly dug out to make a small camp stretching the few miles across the valley between the two monstrous mountain ranges. The soldiers must have been hoping to sneak through the pass but were intercepted. The soldiers have spent their free time when they weren't fighting or sleeping digging out the narrow trenches. Some parts are more developed than others with retaining walls implanted to steady the walls and the ground boarded or bricked so that the men aren't walking in the mud, whilst other sections look as though they were dug yesterday, walls crumbling and muddy and damp.
Luckily, the Commandos don't have to walk the entirety of the trench to reach their destination. They're dropped at a camp a few miles back from the lines, one of many, and walk down the incline into the trenches before following the narrow hallway into the valley, the mountains rising around them.
They can tell when they reach the front.
Their tunnel diverges into a wide trench that meets at a t-junction, running away from them on both sides. This trench isn't so bad – it has lots of beds along the wall for the soldiers to sleep, tables for eating and preparing food, and desks for the officers to communicate with their superiors on the home front. But there's also a multitude of stretchers scattered around and nurses working frantically to heal wounds that are too pressing to spend the time walking them back to the nurse's station away from the line, back down that narrow tunnel. There's a lot of dead too waiting to be cleared.
They continue along their tunnel from the bustle into the middle trench, mainly a storage section for weaponry and a hang out spot for soldiers awaiting their shift, and then on through to the front trench.
Once they're in the front trench, it's a bustle of activity, even more so than the first. Soldiers run around with weaponry at the ready while others are wounded, being hurried off on stretchers by their comrades. The rest of them seem to be waiting around for their orders. The soldiers stay at the front during their shift, perched along the walls, smoking, talking, waiting for the order to go over the wall and sitting with weapons ready in case of an attack.
No Man's Land separates the Allied trench from the Axis system only a few hundred metres away. If Steve strains his ears to listen, he can hear the soft mumble of German.
The officer leading the Commandos to their required position doesn't stop to look around, walking purposefully through the trench. The trench isn't a straight line, with many twists and turns which not only make it hard for the enemy to chase soldiers if they were to be infiltrated but limits the damage of an explosion should one occur.
Isabel walks slowly behind the rest of the Commandos, passing the scenes all around her with a frown. The smell alone is enough to make her feel a little sick, and unfriendly smells are a part of her line of work. She smells blood, sweat, urine and faeces, cigarette smoke, fire, gunpowder, food, alcohol, and even somehow fear. It all mixes together into a scent she's grown to identify as war. It makes her nose crinkle and her eyes water.
The sight is no sweeter. The trenches are simply narrow tunnels made by hand in the dirt of the lands. The walls of the trenches reach not much higher than Steve himself, narrow enough that in some spots they have to turn on their side to pass through or have to duck their heads down low. The bottom of the trench has been lined with thick wooden planks that stand just above the flooded water below from the rain. Their boots squelch as they walk through. The men don't seem to be worried about their boots being wet; it's wet socks and feet that lead to Trench foot, but the soldiers must believe it's the least of their worries.
The trenches are wet, muddy, dirty, smelly, vial. Men stand and sit along the walls, tucked away into small dugouts reserved for resting. They read and smoke and pray and write letters to their loved ones back home, and some of them just sit and stare ahead, their eyes blank. It's unnerving, and Isabel tries not to look.
She feels a little uneasy as well due to all the eyes on her. The men look up as Steve passes, which is a given, but their eyes linger unnervingly on her.
However, perhaps the most unnerving of it all is the sound. It's so loud at parts of the trench system, Isabel can barely hear herself think. She hears gunfire, explosions, a constant barrage coming at them from the German trench a few hundred metres away. It puts a clog of fear in her throat and makes her stomach constrict uncomfortably.
Isabel has a first-hand idea now of what her father went through all those years ago, and what Steve's father experienced, and what so many did in the first war. Stuck in these trenches for months, years. Dying in them. Being forgotten in them.
Partly to distract herself and partly to document their experiences, Isabel has Steve's camera in her hands. She takes pictures every now and then of the trench, of Steve and the Commandos walking in front of her, of the men in the trenches that look to her when she points the camera at them. She's got a collection of film reels in her trunk back at the SSR base waiting to be developed that she's taken while they've been on the road and waiting around. It may not be what should be her priority out here in the fight, but it helps her cope. And she knows that when she does get the films developed, she'll have an exciting story to tell and the pictures to prove it.
Bucky hurries her along at some points, especially when they encounter a part of the trench where the Allied soldiers are firing back. The chances of a rogue grenade or bullet hitting any of them is rather high, and so they duck down and hurry along, ushered through by one of the soldiers not engaged in battle. Isabel can't make her legs move fast enough to get her through those sections of the trench. Each bang makes her jolt, her hands shaking like a leaf in the wind.
After a gruesome, frightening hour of walking, running, dodging and huddling, the Howling Commandos finally make it to their destination at the middle mark of the trench. They're halfway in the valley, two towering mountains equally high on either side of them.
The trenches are a little more dug out here, wider and taller with reinforced walls and floors. Isabel supposes the men have had quite a long time to work on the state of their living conditions. It's also eerily quiet, with no firing or explosions, not even any talk. If they didn't know any better, they'd believe there was no battle in their immediate area.
The men themselves look utterly defeated. A few with remaining morale stand at their positions with their rifles aimed over No Man's Land, ready for enemy attack. They still have a look of determination on their features, though they are still tired and gaunt. Perhaps they still have something to fight for, or something to get home to.
Those who have lost their spark sit around the edges of the trench out of the way. Some stare ahead, some play cards, others drink from flasks and stare down at pictures of their loved ones. The light is gone from their eyes, leaving them cold and lifeless. They all slouch, wear their uniforms dirty and incorrectly, lacking any regard for their superiors or their situation. It's disappointing, but Isabel can't really blame them. Being in a stalemate for eight months is just incomprehensible to her. Living in the same couple of metres of trench, doing nothing but waiting to die, sounds like hell. She thinks of all she and the Commandos have accomplished in the last eight months, all of the things that have been done and said in that time, and feels a tinge of guilt and sadness when she realises these men have seen nothing but these few walls and the war in all that time.
Isabel snaps back from her thoughts, realising she'd been staring at a particular soldier. He looks a little like a boy she went to school with, who'd been her partner in science class. He has the same ash blonde hair and green eyes, the same nose, but she can't be sure it's him. He doesn't notice her staring, his eyes staring unblinkingly up at the top of the trench, the ladder leading to No Man's Land.
Isabel forces herself to look away before the man notices her intrigued staring, turning her attention to the conversation occurring right before her. Steve and Bucky are talking with one of the sergeants of the company they're standing amongst. He himself looks dishevelled, lifeless, but he also has a determination in his eyes some of the others lack. It must be a sergeant thing, Isabel thinks - that need to protect your men, your brothers in arms. Bucky has the same glint, though he's always had that protectiveness. Perhaps, instead, it takes a certain type of person to act as sergeant.
"What's causing the stalemate?" Steve asks the sergeant, his Captain's voice plastered on effortless.
"Right over that patch of grass," the sergeant tells them, pointing toward the German trench. "Just beyond the German line there are multiple small stations that they built overnight, looks somethin' like a tin shed. We aren't sure exactly how many there are, but they extend a few miles in either direction from here. They're safeguarding what's behind them, because it leads to Munich. Inside the sheds are a couple'a machine gun, canon things – we aren't exactly sure. They look like the canon of a tank, but they blast out this blue lightning that just... dissolves people?"
The Commandos share a look. "We've seen that before. There's no way of escaping it," Steve sympathises.
"They've got machine guns, too, the normal ones. They must be saving the blue stuff because they only use it when a lot of us go over at once."
"They might not have been given much Tesseract energy," Bucky reasons with Steve quietly.
"The sheds are made of somethin' too thick for any of our bullets or grenades to get through, so them operators inside have been untouched for months. Not even a scratch on 'em. They wait and pick off anyone who ventures over the top."
"How many men have they got?" Steve asks quietly so that the other soldiers can't hear, not wanting to dampen their morale.
"Hundreds. Thousands. We haven't really a clue. Seems they have a never ending supply."
"Your company doesn't have many men. Where's the rest?" Bucky notes, looking around and silently counting the men surrounding them. There's less than thirty in the vicinity, if they're lucky, when there should be hundreds.
"More than one company here, Serge. They rest are all in the sleeping quarters, maybe another fifty or so," the sergeant explains in a southern American drawl. "We've had multiple waves of reinforcements the last eight months, but a lot get moved on when they realise there's nothin' they can do, and another lot get killed goin' over the top. We requested more back up a few weeks ago, but none's come as yet. You were our last hope," the sergeant tells Steve with a solemn smile.
"What tactics have you used to try to get to the line?" Steve asks, eyes skirting the area trying to formulate a plan.
"All of 'em, Captain. Every single one in the rule book. No matter what tactic we used, none of 'em worked. No matter how many men went at once, none of 'em even made it to the trench, let alone the station. They've kept us useless. There ain't nothin' we can do. But if we leave our line of defence, we lose our path toward Berlin. We need to get through or the Krauts win," the sergeant says.
Isabel walks a little closer to the edge of the trench, peering over carefully, just enough that she can see without being exposed. Her eyes widen at the sight. The grass is littered from the very edge of it with hundreds of Allied bodies, bullet ridden men who fell at the hands of the Germans in the station. The human body is no match for the power of the machine gun. A few of the men are caught in the barbed wire settled along fences in the middle, having gotten caught in their haste to outrun the bullet barrage. They hang limp, eyes cold and unblinking. It's a familiar scene, one that sends shivers down her spine.
"Oh my God," she whispers.
Suddenly, an arm grabs around Isabel's waist and pulls her off her tiptoes and away from the edge. The touch makes her cry out, though she manages to keep her voice low. She flings around and comes face to face with Bucky, who frowns at her.
"Keep your head low," he berates her. "You aren't even wearing a helmet." Isabel doesn't even remember where she put her helmet, but then Bucky seems to pull a helmet from nowhere, maybe his own, and sits it atop her head, the straps hanging down from her chin. "You gotta clip this behind or it'll get blown right off," Bucky continues, fixing the straps so that they clasp behind Isabel's head. The helmet won't fall off if its hit, but refraining from having it clasped under the chin reduces the risk of neck-related injuries from the force. She'd heard about that, the helmets snapping soldier's necks.
"Sorry, I forgot," Isabel mutters quietly, her eyes wide.
"You can't afford to forget, Isabel," Bucky tells her, his eyes wide with worry that makes Isabel feel guilty, before he manages to school his expression. The fear disappears in a second and the confident sergeant returns.
"It's just like Midnight Oil," she tells Bucky. "When Howard, Peggy and I found all the bodies in the field. All the blood, the smell, all that wasted life."
Bucky's eyes widen a bit when he remembers what she speaks of, and he pulls her into a tight hug. "We shouldn't have brought you, Belle. I'm sorry."
"I chose to come. It's not your fault. You didn't know it would be like this."
"Actually, I did. I was in the trenches long enough to know this is what it's like. People die by the hundreds doing the same tactic over and over again when it doesn't work. Rats as big as cats. Trench foot, barrages, pneumonia... I've seen it all," Bucky replies, guilt wracking his voice.
"It's still not your fault," Isabel persists, pulling away. "I decided to tag along, and I should have known what to expect."
"But I'm your brother," Bucky protests. "It's my job to look out for you."
"And I appreciate that you do, but it doesn't automatically make everything your fault, Bucky. Besides, give yourself a little credit. I'm alive, aren't I? And Steve didn't think that it would be bad for me to come here, either," Isabel reassures. "It isn't up to either of you, it's my choice–"
"You know what you can deal with," Bucky finishes for her. "I know. I just worry about you, is all."
"Not going to lie, I think I worry about you a hell of a lot more. I–"
A sound to Isabel's right grabs their attention, and the siblings turn just in time to see the familiar-looking man standing not far from them, looking up contemplatively at the ladder that leads out of the trench into No Man's Land. He puts one foot on the bottom rung and then grabs on with his hands, slowly climbing up the ladder. He hasn't got a gun, isn't even wearing a helmet. He's totally unprepared, and yet he's going over the top.
"Bucky, what is he doing?" Isabel whispers hysterically, cringing in expectation of the fire of the machine gun. The bullets never come.
"Hey, Private, come down," Bucky hisses to the man, reaching for the soldier's boot to pull him back. The Private steps away before Bucky can grab him, standing full in No Man's Land. "What are you doing? Private!"
The man ignores Bucky's yell despite the fact that Bucky is his superior officer. He stands as still as a statue in preparation.
"Please, come back," Isabel begs the man, getting as close as Bucky will let her. "Don't end it like this, please," Isabel pleads, but her words also go unheard.
By then, the incident has caused some attention, the small platoon of soldiers gathering around. The Howling Commandos watch quietly, allowing the men who know the soldier to intervene. They all speak to their friend, quietly so that they don't draw attention to themselves for an attack. They try to persuade him to come down and to duck, but the man doesn't even pay them any attention. He waits and waits, but the shots he clearly wishes for never come.
"He's shell shocked," Isabel tells Bucky. "He wants it to end."
"You've seen it before?"
"Oh, yeah. I think we've all got it, at least a little bit. The hospitals are riddled with it. You can't reason with them. They won't listen–"
The man, obviously annoyed at the lack of gunfire, begins to run in circles around No Man's Land, taunting the Germans. He yells and screams every German word he can conjure up, a mix of German and English and screaming that eventually turns into gibberish. He runs and runs, kicking up mud and stepping on the bodies of his fallen comrades. A few of the Allied soldiers look away, considering their friend a goner. It isn't even possible to run up the ladder and bring him back down without risking harm to themselves.
On the other side of the land, there seems to be no movement, the Germans teasing the poor, shell shocked man. Steve moves toward the ladder, preparing to go up and bring the man back down with the protection of the shield, when suddenly, there's a mass of machine gun fire from the station across from them. The bullets lodge themselves in the man's body violently, shaking and rattling him where he stands. He's facing them all, eyes locked on Steve in fear as he goes stiff, his mouth open in pain and his eyebrows furrowed. Then, he falls forward in a heap, another fallen body beside the other hundreds of lives wasted. The guns fire down, leaving more scent in the air.
Bucky's holding onto Isabel tightly, his hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. It could give away their position in the trench and invite grenades or shell fire to them. She covers her eyes with her hand, eyes threatening to flood with salty tears. The death is so violent and inhumane, it makes her feel sick to her stomach. She has to resist the urge to vomit.
The other soldiers seem relatively unfazed, some doing the sign of the cross on themselves before going back to what they were doing before. Death is the norm, and it isn't anything unlike they've already seen.
Isabel looks over at Steve, and he has this look in his eyes that they've all seen, a determination only Steve Rogers can harness. It may not end well for Steve himself, but he'll fight until every one of these men is free from the stalemate and the battle. Steve's determined, and when he's determined, he can do whatever he sets his mind to.
Steve turns back to the sergeant. "This ends now," Captain America promises, nodding to the sergeant.
Steve starts going through his pockets, checking for all his weapons and ensuring they're all loaded. The Howling Commandos do the same, ensuring they are ready for the fight that is inevitably coming. There's no way to safely and peacefully end the stalemate.
"So, we end the stalemate?" Morita asks Steve.
"That's the plan," Steve says whilst checking the ammunition in his pistol.
"How?"
"We take out that station and clear the area," Steve decides, looking determined. "Once we take out that one, we move onto the next. If we demolish enough of them, the soldiers should be able to take it from there. We need to give them back their advantage."
"Cap, if we go over the top, we'll end up like those poor fellas up there," Dugan argues, pointing to the dead in No Man's Land. "Or like the ones who went poof in a flash of blue."
"No. No one else can go over the top, Steve," Isabel tells him firmly. "It's suicide. I don't understand how they could have already let so many men go. You are not sending any more men to their deaths like that, so pointlessly."
"You're right, I'm not sending anyone else because it is suicide," Steve agrees. "But I'm going over first. I read about it once in a book. This lady, she did it back in 1918 but I forget who... Anyway, not important." Steve steels himself. "I'll go first with the shield; they'll never hit me. I'll clear out that first station. Wait for my signal, then follow with all of the men you can muster. The larger your group, the better, there's safety in numbers," Steve tells the soldiers.
The sergeant nods in understanding before going off to rouse all of his men from their spots. They all stand slowly and reluctantly, most likely due to the hit to their morale at just watching another friend die.
"We get to the German trench and infiltrate it. If we get possession, we can make our way through the trenches both ways along the line," Steve explains, pointing like a flight attendant down the aisles, "and take out the other machine guns as we go. Stalemate ended."
"What's the signal, Captain?" Monty asks.
"You'll know it when you see it, it'll be bright," Steve tells them as he pulls his shield from his uniformed back and brings down his cowl over his face.
Bucky seems to have given up protesting.
"What? Steve, no, wait–" Isabel tries, but Steve's moving before she can get the words out.
Steve climbs the ladder quickly, emerging onto No Man's Land with his shield raised in front of him. He stands for a moment, staring intimidatingly across the expanse, and the fire holds in anticipation. Steve takes his first confident step, and then another, and suddenly he isn't Steve, but Captain America. The machine gun fire starts up as soon as they realise who the spangle-clad man is, attempting to take down the Allied super soldier. Following the machine gun fire comes the blue blasts of the Tesseract guns, flying across the open territory in thick blasts that leave a smoky smell in the air. The blobs of energy bounce off the shield, hitting the ground and making it hiss, evaporating the grass and mud.
"No use protesting, Baby Barnes," Dugan tells Isabel helpfully, stepping up beside her. "Just let him do his thing and be here to pick up the pieces afterwards."
"Easy for you to give advice," Isabel hisses back, watching with worried eyes as Steve's walk turns into a run. "He could have at least said goodbye."
Within seconds, Steve is running across the corpse-ridden muddy lands. He props his shield up in front of him, effortlessly deflecting the bullets and blasts from the relentless canons. He's so sure on his feet across the uneven terrain, careful not to step on any of the bodies. He jumps clear over a large puddle of water, which has a row of barbed wire hidden within it, which many have fallen claim to.
Steve makes it to the German trench without a scratch on him. As he gets worryingly close, the Germans in the trench start up their own gunfire as well. Without hesitating, Steve effortless vaults over the narrow trench, flying over the heads of the German soldiers to the other side. He lands steadily and runs up the small hill to the bunker before the Germans can shoot at his retreating back. He simply opens the side door of the shed and disappears inside, the door closing behind him. There are a few beats of dead silence and everyone holds their breath, waiting for him to reemerge. The land seems to fall silent again, everyone in anticipation. Isabel takes a few deep breaths to keep calm.
The blasts of Tesseract energy stop abruptly, and the canon falls downward, pointing toward the ground. Steve runs from the shed a few minutes later and ducks behind his shield just in time. The small bunker explodes in a massive fireball, the machine guns with it. The Germans in the trench below duck away from the fire. Rubble flies everywhere, raining down in dangerous chunks on the German trench and littering no man's land with ash. The sky turns black with thick smoke, offering them a visual shield to safely run across No Man's Land.
The men stare for a moment, slack-jawed, the eight-month stalemate ended within five minutes of Captain America being in the trenches.
"That's the signal," Dugan says, happily vaulting up the ladder and into No Man's Land.
It only takes the soldiers a moment's deliberation before they follow Dugan, the crowd of newly determined men on his tail. A hundred or so men have been conjured up from the sleeping quarters and are now taking part on the attack. The mass of khaki goes over the top, forming a barricade as they run across No Man's Land. They disappear into the smoke cloud within a few steps, engulfed entirely by the black.
Bucky concentrates on the pounding of his boots and the sounds of his laboured breathing. Everyone is silent, not wanting to tip off the Germans to where they are. Bucky can barely see an inch in front of his face, but he can feel Dugan and Monty on either side of him, their arms knocking into his as they run. The mass moves carefully but quickly across the expanse. Bucky can't even see his feet, and he's glad because he knows he's stepping over hundreds of bodies and the thought makes him feel a little sick. It's better if he can't see them.
The thing he's most worried about, though, is walking straight into one of the barbed wire fences. If any of them get caught in it, they'll never get out. Not two seconds later, a handful of the men shout out loudly, the line breaking as they're caught in the barbed wire. Bucky can't see them at all, but he can hear them grunting and crying out, struggling to get their clothing and skin free of the barbs. He can hear the rip of material.
Unfortunately, their shouting draws the attention of the Germans, who shoot in their general vicinity and tear their bodies to shreds with bullets. That prompts the rest of them to move faster.
The shooting starts up after that, the Germans seemingly recovered from the rubble raining down on them and trying to push back the Allied attack with their own counterattack. A few of the Allied soldiers are hit by a rogue bullet, going down in a heap with a yell, but the mass is closer than the Germans think and there's not enough time for the Germans to even make a dent in their line.
Just as the smoke begins to thin out, the men running at the front of the mass, including Bucky and the Commandos, all of a sudden feel the earth disappear beneath their boots. They fall into the German trench, having not seen it in front of them. Bucky lands hard on the wooden boards at the bottom of the trench, water splashing up around him. He groans loudly at the impact, his knee shooting into agonising pain.
But Bucky doesn't have time to think about it. Before Bucky can get off the ground, he feels hands on his shoulders, and then those hands are wrapping around his throat. The hands squeeze tightly before Bucky can throw the man off, tighter and tighter. Bucky grabs the man's arms and tries to pull him off, but he quickly feels himself getting weaker without air, his head getting clouded.
Suddenly, there's a loud clunk and smack and the hands let go. Bucky sucks in a deep breath, coughing and clutching his throat. He splutters as he stands, whirling around for his attacker with his rifle raised. He lowers the gun when he sees Steve standing there, the German that had strangled him on the ground beside them.
"I had it covered," Bucky tells Steve.
"I know," Steve promises.
In the trenches is mass chaos. It's a different type of fighting to anywhere else.
The Germans are fleeing the trenches, trying to escape through their own winding tunnels. The smoke had provided the perfect cover for the Allies to get the drop on them. Not that the attack had been a surprise, but the Germans hadn't known when or how many of the Allies would invade. A lot of them, at the sight of Captain America, have also realised they are no match for his brute strength.
Those that remain to fight are easily being taken down by the rest of the Commandos and Allies. The Allies are outnumbered, but they out-skill the Germans, and they also outdo them in their savagery. After eight months of hell, they want to end it any way they can.
Dugan yells in victory as he smashes one soldier with the butt of his rifle, whilst Morita strangles another violently. It feels wrong to watch a medic end someone's life when he spends the rest of his time saving his teammates from certain death. Jones and Frenchy fight together, as they usually do. Jones shoots at those that come toward them whilst Dernier is rifling through the German explosives, discovering a pile of grenades that he throws strategically at the Germans who escape them through the trenches. The Allies who lose their weapons or run out of ammo make use of the equipment around them, picking up shovels and books and anything lying around and throwing them at the Germans, using them to hit them violently.
The act of taking over a trench in such close proximity is much more intimate than any other form of warfare. As Bucky smashes the butt of his rifle into the head of a German soldier, he can look the man in the eyes and note the fear and coldness staring back at him. Their eyes are almost always blue or grey. Bucky runs his knife through the chest of another few men, pulling it out again with a flick of red blood. The soldiers clutch their chests where they've been impaled by the metal, eyes widening. They cough up a large amount of blood and Bucky lets them fall and bleed out on the ground, panting for breath. A speckle of blood lands on Bucky's pale cheek.
Bucky never sticks around long enough to see them take their last breath – that way, it doesn't truly feel like he's killed them.
Eventually, they clear the immediate area, and the Commandos follow the other Allies as they pursue the cowardly retreating Germans. They run and stab and shoot and duck and punch, leaving a trail of bodies behind them. Captain America and his unstoppable shield run ahead, Steve flinging the shield around in front of him. It bounces off the walls of the trench in an unpredictable fashion and takes out many men, hitting them in the back hard enough to rattle them. They're cleaned up on the way.
Those who'd escaped first are much further ahead, but Steve and Bucky's increased stamina allows them to pull ahead of everyone else and catch up. They find that the Germans have ditched their possessions to make themselves lighter to run, and they find blankets, coats, knapsacks and ammunition pouches scattered on the ground of the trench.
Some of the Germans eventually stop running, exhausted from the chase. Steve and Bucky find them hiding in small nooks and crannies of the trench, or just sitting in the middle of the ground waiting to be taken prisoner. Any of them that try to escape back into No Man's Land are shot by the Allied forces waiting on the other side.
Steve, Bucky and the other Allies halt when they reach the next station along the trenches, the machine guns set up aimed over No Man's Land. In front of the station is another group of German soldiers who apparently disregarded the warnings of those who'd passed through in their hasty escape. The group makes very quick work of the men, despite them anticipating the attack, before Steve hurries up to the next machine gun bunker. He sets fire to that one just as he had the first, sending it to smithereens and filling the clear air again with smoke. The smell comes back, the hot smell that comes with the Tesseract energy. It fills the air and their noses and its so strong, being this close, that it makes their eyes water.
Apparently, the Allied soldiers across the expanse have been notified of the Captain's plan, as they ascend over the top as soon as the station goes up in flames. Not even two minutes later, the next wave of Allies drops into the German trench, coming face to face with Captain America. They all look a little star struck, their jaws slack, but with orders from Steve, they all snap into gear. Steve sends them onward down the trench after the next German post, commanding them to leave no survivors, to secure the area they've infiltrated, and instructing them on how to take out the machine guns.
"Don't get in the way of the canon. You won't make it out. If you take out the next station, you should get back up from the next wave, just like you've backed us up," Steve tells them. "Then, you all keep going down the line. There's one more station that way, and there'll be a lot more Germans. Don't stop until all of the stations have been destroyed and all of them gone or captured or you'll never take the line."
"Yes, sir," the men reply, snapping hasty salutes before scrambling through the trench, rifles raised.
"Now what, Cap?" Morita asks, holding a piece of cloth to a bleeding cut on his forehead.
"We go back the way we came, help with destroying the stations on the other side. Once they get another wave of soldiers going that way, we'll have helped them kick start the victory," Steve says, leading them hastily back through the trench to where they'd began.
"And once they've got it covered?"
"Then I don't see why we can't go back to base," Steve says. "The stalemate's over and morale's been restored. We've done what Phillips asked of us. Might be a good chance for us all to get a good night's sleep as well."
"I am intrigued about what they're protecting so fiercely," Bucky notes, looking curiously toward the hills behind the now flaming bunkers. "Seems like a lot of effort simply for the road to Munich. This wouldn't be the last trench before the city, we're hundreds of miles away."
Steve looks across the valley toward the next mountain range in the distance. "Makes you wonder what's hiding in the mountains, hey? Perhaps with a bit more reconnaissance we can check it out."
Whilst the male members of the Howling Commandos join the battle and wreak havoc on the German platoon, Isabel stays in the Allied trench and waits. It's something she's grown used to, waiting, though she can think of many other places she'd rather hide out and count down the hours.
The waiting feels eternal, as always, but there's no way for her to see what's going on. She can't see anything across No Man's Land due to the smoke, and she's also not quite game enough to peer over the top again in case she gets herself shot by someone across the space.
Instead, she makes herself useful while she waits. Treating people's injuries and illnesses helps take her mind off the stomach-turning anxiety of her boys being off fighting in the enemy trenches. The mission is maybe even more dangerous than a Hydra raid because these Germans knew that they were coming, were ready for the attack, whereas Hydra is generally unprepared for the Commandos' infiltration. It doesn't sit right with her, though she supposes that generally in the war, this is the type of fighting that occurs. The work that they do is extremely different, mainly undercover work, and for a very different reason. Hydra and the Nazi party are not the same.
Isabel tries not to think about it. She goes off in search of people to treat, and there's no shortage. In the tunnel systems away from the front, there's already many nurses working on wounded soldiers. They sit on their beds or on the ground, nursing their wounds. Most of the injuries are relatively serious, or else they'd be out fighting. Their injuries range from small cuts and scrapes which can still be life threatening if they were to become infected, to limbs needing full amputation. Many have multiple of each type, enough to debilitate many of them.
Isabel finds the closest unattended patient and begins. The man's eyes are rolling back in his head from the pain, and she quickly gives him a syrette of morphine to take the edge off the pain. He's got multiple bullet wounds in his chest, and how he's survived so far is a mystery to her. He's had no treatment at all – no pain relief, nothing pressed to the wound to stem the bleeding, no one's attempted to remove the bullets or ward off infection. She has no idea how long the man has been lying here unattended.
Isabel gets to work, preparing the man for a removal of the bullets, when she notices the soldier beside her watching them with a solemn expression. She quickly glances at him to examine him for injuries, her eyes landing on his right hand. The hand is mangled, almost unrecognisable as a hand, caused by a blow from what she presumes was a landmine or possibly a round of bullets. He holds it against his body protectively. Isabel tells him to hold out his uninjured arm and injects him with a syrette of morphine before she hands him a cloth to wrap around the injury and somehow hold it together until she can attend to him.
"Thank you, ma'am," the Private says, awkwardly wrapping the hand as the intense pain wears off.
"Sure. I'll be with you once I've got this soldier stabilised. Could be a while, though," Isabel says distractedly, investigating the wounds with a critical eye.
The man beneath her groans loudly when she pushes on the wound, his eyebrows furrowing. His eyes never open.
"He's been through hell, that one. I saw the whole thing," the Private tells her, referring to her patient.
"Oh?"
"Before I tell you, we better find out his name," the Private says. He leans over and reads the soldier's dog tags around his neck. "Private Cole Jackson," he reads.
"Jackson," Isabel repeats offhandedly.
"So, Jackson's friend – I'm afraid I don't know his name – got called up to go over the top, but Jackson didn't. His friend got himself stuck in the barbed wire and got shot up by the Germans. He saw the whole thing. He ran up into No Man's Land to save his friend."
"Where is his friend, uh, Private...?"
"Michael Gilles, ma'am. His friend is the one on the stretcher over there," Private Gilles tells Isabel solemnly, pointing across the trench with his uninjured hand to a stretcher laying on the ground a few feet away. The body on it is motionless, the eyes closed and the hands resting on the man's chest. His entire body is riddled with bullets, the ground soaked with blood.
"Why would he run into No Man's Land if he knew his friend had been shot like that? He must have been too far gone to save," Isabel asks quietly while her hands work mechanically on the wounds. She digs in with tweezers and scalpel, attempting to locate the mangles shrapnel pieces to remove them. The slippery bastards don't seem to want to cooperate.
"Well, if it was your friend stuck out there screaming for you to help them and crying out for their mama, wouldn't you at least attempt to bring them back to safety? At least so they could have a proper burial?" Michael asks, but there's no heat behind his words, only genuine curiosity.
Isabel hesitates, imagining Bucky or Steve or any of the Commandos being stuck in No Man's Land caught up in the barbed wire, the look of terror on their faces as they scream for her to help. Her mind flashes to the dream she had all those months ago in the barn, the first nightmare she'd had about the war, and she knows instantly she wouldn't have hesitated to do the same.
"I suppose," Isabel says eventually.
"So, Jackson got all the way out there and freed his friend, managed to escape all the gunfire. Started dragging his friend back toward the trenches, but his friend was leaning on him so heavily they were nearly falling over so it was slow going. They made it back, though, and we thought they got away with it. We thought it was some kind of miracle."
Isabel removes the bullets and as much of the shrapnel as she can see, discarding them on the ground beside the patient. Once she's sure she's removed every bit of metal around the gushing blood, she begins to hastily sew up the internal wounds, vaguely listening to the man's tale. She needs to concentrate – one slip up with the needle could puncture something vital and end the man's life.
"Cole handed his friend to us and a few of the others carried him down the ladder and straight to the medic," the man continues, not seeming to mind that Isabel is barely listening. "Then, just as he turned to climb down the ladder, the Germans shot at him, got him right in the chest. I was reaching up to help him down and a few of the bullets hit my hand, hence this," he says, holding up the mangled limb. "Jackson fell backward into the trench right on top of me, and you could just see the surprise on his face, and then the pain. It was like the Krauts were teasing him, letting him think he'd saved his friend unharmed. I think he thought he'd made it, too. But no one walks through No Man's Land and escapes scot-free."
"That's awful," Isabel says. She feels a bit nauseous at the story, having listened more carefully as it neared the end. "He won't have walked scot-free, but he'll live," she eventually decides, but her voice is still unsure.
She carefully sews up the internal wounds and begins working on sewing up the outer wounds, closing off the bleeding holes into a neat line of stitches. Hopefully, they'll heal without infection. She keeps them clean and douses them in iodine before wrapping them in bandages. Private Jackson doesn't wake up again, but he makes noises every now and then that reassure them he's still alive. She pins the empty syrette to the lapel of his uniform and deems him treated. A nurse will need to check up on him later.
Isabel then scoots over to Private Gilles and motions for his injured hand, taking it gently in hers. She unwraps the hand, revealing a mess of a hand, if it could even be called that anymore. It simply resembles a hunk of meat and muscle on the end of the man's wrist. The bullets have torn straight through the man's hands, leaving it deformed and bleeding excessively. The soldier looks extremely pale from the blood loss, losing his alertness by the second. The fact that he's stopped talking so excessively gives that away.
Isabel looks at the hand critically, knowing she needs to work fast. Truthfully, there's nothing she can do for it. She can't stitch it back together, has no way of working the pieces of skin and muscle back together in a way that it would look normal, let alone be usable. She doesn't even know if it will ever be usable again anyway, and she also doesn't have enough time.
Amputation is an operation of necessity, not a procedure of choice or election. In this case, she'd say it would be the right one. There's an almost complete destruction of tissue, irretrievably mangled and partly avulsed. There's too much damage for the limb to be salvageable. In a way, a nearly complete amputation has already been performed, through traumatic circumstances, and a surgeon would be at duty to complete it. Isabel, though, is not a surgeon, and has no wish to attempt to fulfil that role. She's got to get him off to a hospital, stat.
Isabel looks up at the man, and something in her eyes must convey her thought pattern, because Private Gilles lets out a knowing sigh. "It's gotta go, right?" He asks, his tone accepting.
"I'm afraid so," Isabel says, looking back down at the hand. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I nor any surgeon could do to repair what's left. You would have a better quality of life for it to be amputated. The risk of infection and nerve damage is extremely high."
"I understand, ma'am," Gilles says with a reassuring smile. "Just point me in the direction of the ambulance and I'll be out of your hair."
Isabel nods. She re-wraps the hand, tightly to stem the bleeding. Gilles hisses with pain but says nothing, allowing her to hide the mangled limb.
"I'll miss it," Gilles mutters.
"But you'll also get used to it being gone," Isabel promises.
She stands and helps Gilles stand as well, allowing him to lean on her. She walks him toward the attending medic in charge. The medic listens quickly to her prognosis and agrees immediately after assessing it herself, pointing them in the direction of the evacuation and loading bay, down another tunnel that leads underground. Isabel can just spot the ambulance waiting at the end, a few patients being loaded in carefully. As one ambulance leaves, another arrives. The ambulance shuts its back doors and drives off. Isabel will wait with Gilles until the next arrives. She wants to make sure he's tended to properly before she leaves him.
They make it to the end of the narrow tunnel they're led down, walking even further away from the front. There's a small underground bunker that the ambulances park in to load patients, which has a driveway at the other end that safely leads them out of the underground to the surface, far from the firing at the front.
Isabel helps Gilles sit on one of the benches and then sits beside him, waiting for the next ambulance.
"So, what brings a dame like you out into the front trenches?" Gilles asks conversationally. Isabel resists the urge to stare at him in wonder. How he can make such casual conversation in the middle of a war with a partially-amputated hand is beyond her. The pain medication must be kicking in well.
"I'm a nurse," Isabel says.
"But you aren't wearing a nurse's uniform, you're wearing an Army uniform. Medic?"
"Something like that," Isabel says vaguely.
"Seems awfully out of place for someone like you, even if you are a nurse," Michael mentions, looking contemplative. "Earlier, when I asked if you would save your friend if they were calling out to you, you had this look on your face, like you could relate. Is it a person that's keeping you fighting in the war? A friend?"
Isabel looks down at her hands, covered in blood. She forms her answer carefully. "My fella and my brother are fighting with the Howling Commandos," she eventually says. "I'm one of their medics."
"Oh, that was what all that ruckus was. They said something about the Howling Commandos coming to pay us a visit, but no one's ever really seen them except in the pictures so they're something like a myth on the front. Some of the men even think they aren't real, that they're just some made up group to boost morale."
"Well, here we are in the flesh. You can tell everyone you saw us with your own eyes, and even spoke to one of their medics."
"Your brother… Is he Barnes?" Gilles asks.
"How did you know?"
"He's the only one of them that you look like," Gilles says with a shrug. The morphine is certainly doing wonders, though Isabel contemplates whether the nerves in the hand have been damaged and he barely feels much at all. "I've also read the comics. They're terrible, but they're entertaining. Didn't realise the dame in those comics was you, though now you mention it, I can see the likeness."
"Those weren't authorised by us, just so you know. That was a government morale boost. And not all of it is true," Isabel says.
She looks up when she hears the rumble of an engine, an ambulance approaching them down the road. A sense of relief floods over her.
"So, you said your fella fights, too. Is it true that you and the Captain are friends?" Gilles continues, putting an emphasis on the word "friends" so that Isabel knows he's referring to Steve as something more.
Isabel looks at the private sideways, a smirk on her mouth. "Yes, Captain Rogers and I are friends," Isabel agrees.
Michael smirks at that like all of his suspicions have been confirmed. "Would you be here if it weren't for them?"
"Of course not," Isabel says. "Who in their right mind would willingly come here?"
"I did, ma'am."
"Right, sorry," Isabel amends quickly.
"Not saying I don't regret it now," he laughs.
"It just was never something I wanted. I worked in a hospital in Brooklyn before all of this. My life was relatively normal, and I liked it. It all got turned upside down and every day is a struggle here, but honestly, I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't go home, not yet, not right now. I'd rather be here helping Bucky and Steve than home waiting for them to return," Isabel finds herself saying. She's not entirely sure why she's opening up to a near-stranger, but Michael Gilles just seems like the trustworthy type.
"Friends seem to do that to you," Gilles says, watching as the ambulance pulls to a stop in front of them. "No matter where they drag you, you can't seem to leave them."
"They're family, Private Gilles. Makes it even harder to leave them, even if it's for the best," Isabel eventually says, smiling at the soldier sadly. "Come on, let's get you in the ambulance."
Isabel helps Gilles stand and leads him to the back of the truck. The ambulance driver helps Gilles into the back, and he sinks heavily into the bench seat, leaning back against the wall. The morphine seems to be sinking in further, causing him to become drowsy. Isabel's glad – he might wake up in the hospital and it might make the trip less excruciating.
"This gonna buy me a ticket home?" Gilles asks the ambulance driver groggily, pointing to the hand.
"Yes, I believe it will," the ambulance driver says, looking at the wound in disgust after hearing Isabel's explanation. "I'll get him to the field hospital. He'll need surgery."
"I'm glad," Gilles mutters.
"Good luck," Isabel says with finality, preparing to go back to the trenches. She's confident Gilles is in good hands.
"You too, ma'am. Take care of yourself. I'll think of you when I'm resting up back home," Gilles says.
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Isabel promises. "After all, I have more than one pair of eyes looking out for me."
Over the following hours, Isabel continues to help the wounded who didn't leave their spots to fight. She's on a high from helping Private Gilles. Even though he's going off for an amputation, she's managed to get him help before his injuries were fatal, and another soldier has been escorted from the front lines with his life intact. In a way, she's saved the man and he can go on to live a happy life. It makes her feel a little better.
Isabel goes back to check on Private Jackson but finds that he's been moved to a proper bed rather than lying on the ground. He's still unconscious from the medication, which is probably for the best. She asks the nurse and is informed he'll be moved to a field hospital to recover once two hands are free to carry a stretcher with him on it, which increases her good mood further.
It makes her forget about the battle going on only a few hundred yards away, though if Isabel listens carefully, she can hear the gunfire, explosions, screaming, yelling, and thuds as bodies hit the ground. It's very faint, especially consider how loud the medical trench is, but it's audible. She blocks it out. Eventually, there's another major explosion a few hundred yards to her right, and then there's more yelling and gunfire. She supposes the next wave of soldiers is crossing to the trench to provide support, and only gives it a passing thought before concentrating on the patients again.
Apart from Private Gilles' mangled hand, most of the injuries are relatively common – gunshots, stab wounds, scrapes and infections. She bandages their wounds and removes bullets as best as she can, treating infections as she finds them. A few more of the men Isabel calls medical evacuation for, and they're wheeled away either by herself or by the other medics to the ambulance station to be taken to the nearby field hospital. If they're conscious they thank her as they're carried away on the stretcher, most likely for her helping them escape their torturous new life.
More patients are brought to the trench constantly, soldiers wounded in the battle going on. Those who are conscious and able to speak fill the medics in on what's happening, how far the Allies have managed to take the German trenches. Every soldier speaks of the Allies advancing further, and it causes a surge of relief to flood through everyone. The fear seems to abate the longer the battle goes on, until everyone is sure the Allies will be victorious.
As she treats a bullet wound to one man's shoulder, she hears a soldier nearby speaking about the Howling Commandos. Isabel finds herself listening in on the conversation as the soldier recounts the events to the nurse treating his wounded knee.
"…and then we hear this voice yell for us to duck, so we do. I was already on the ground though, because I'd already been shot. Next second, Captain America's shield comes flying over the top of all of us. It smacks into the German's in front of us, hits them right in the chest so hard they fly backward into the wall of the trench and drop their guns! We turn around and Captain America is standing there, his men behind him! It was like a scene from one of his talkies!" The soldier exclaims with such energy he's practically vibrating. He's only a boy, maybe eighteen if he's lucky, though he's got a face and voice that makes him seem much younger.
"That's great," the nurse says distractedly, working on his bleeding knee and barely paying attention.
"Cap comes right up to me and he sees my leg, and he tells me I'm going to be okay because I was crying which is slightly embarrassing now that I think about it, but I was just staring at him because I couldn't believe he was there! He tells me to hurry and get back here to get treated. I think he knew I couldn't believe he was there. Then, one of the other Commandos with this impressive moustache, he tells me they've all got a friend who's a medic who'll patch my leg right up. Is that you? Are you the Howling Commandos' friend?"
"No, that's her, over there," the nurse says, nodding her head toward Isabel.
"Oh, hello!" The soldier says with a beaming smile, waving to Isabel. Isabel waves back carefully, a little preoccupied with the wound she's treating. She smiles though, amused by the boy's story. "Your friends are very nice! A little intimidating, but nice. They saved my life."
"They are, and I'm glad," Isabel agrees, humouring the boy. "Did they say anything about how long it would be until they came back?"
"I think they were just about finished. They looked pretty bruised and battered," the boy tells her. "They've helped take down all of the stations. It was swell to see! I wish I could have a go with the shield like the Captain does! Anyway, the Allies should be able to take it from here."
"Thank you," Isabel says with a nod.
She finishes up bandaging the wound on the soldier she's treating before sending him to a free bed to rest. She manages to wash some of the blood from her hands with some water from her canteen, wanting to make herself look a bit more presentable for when the Commandos return from battle.
She offers to take another soldier down to the ambulance bay, walking him carefully and supporting him so that he puts little weight on his damaged foot. He would be on a stretcher, but they're all occupied by others that can't walk or are unconscious. By the time that she returns down the long tunnel from the bay, there is a constant flow of Allied soldiers entering the medical trench from the front, many going for medical assistance and others passing through to the catering, others just to rest in their claimed quarters. If they've successfully taken the German trenches, only a select few soldiers will be required to position themselves along the trenches and defend them, whilst others can return to rest before going on shift.
They filter through slowly, the group slightly smaller than when they went over a few hours before. Isabel waits in the patiently tunnel for them all to pass, looking around for a familiar face. Finally, Steve, Bucky and the Commandos take up the rear of the pack. They all look bruised and battered as the soldier had informed her, but none of them need urgent medical attention.
Isabel cuts into the crowd and goes to them, smiling at all of them. She directs Bucky, Jones and Falsworth over to the side of the trench, promising she'll patch them up soon. They dutifully move off and slide down the wall to sit on the ground, looking exhausted.
"Hello, again!" Isabel hears the young, excitable soldier from earlier say as the three Commandos take a seat beside him. When she looks over, Bucky's the one sitting right beside him. Bucky smiles at the kid and starts up a conversation with him whilst Falsworth and Jones pull a pack of cigarettes from their pockets and light them up.
"Thanks for saving my life," the soldier tells Bucky, beaming.
"It's no problem, kid. But you should really thank Steve for that," Bucky laughs.
"Oh, well, thank you Captain America, sir!" The boy calls, waving ecstatically to Steve.
Steve hears the soldier and waves to him, nodding his head in response. That makes the soldier beam brighter, if possible, and he starts talking excitedly to his nurse again. His innocence and obvious idolisation of the Howling Commandos and Captain America would be sweet had the kid not been a soldier in a war. It's just terrifying to think of someone so young experiencing such devastation and hardship. Isabel frowns at him in worry before her eyes flick to Steve, and her frown deepens.
"You didn't say goodbye," she berates Steve, crossing her arms and scowling, though she finds it hard to retain it.
"Doesn't make it seem so scary if I never say goodbye," Steve admits to her, smiling at her despite the deep wound on his forehead and the bullet lodged in his thigh which Isabel has just noticed. He's getting better at walking without a limp when he's wounded.
Isabel manages to smile back despite the twisting in her gut. She reaches up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his lips. "Consider this a welcome back, then, soldier," she tells him.
Isabel leads him to the wall, and he slides down beside the others. She quickly patches up Steve's leg first, digging the bullet out to allow Steve's healing factor to take effect. It does almost immediately, and they watch for a minute as the skin starts to stitch back together of its own accord before Isabel moves onto Jones' wounded wrist.
Once Steve and the Commandos are relatively healed or feeling well enough, they help the medics take the patients to the ambulance bay, running back and forth endlessly. Morita stays with Isabel and helps her continue to patch up the wounded soldiers. It's exhausting work and it takes a lot of time, but it's also extremely rewarding. Each soldier they assist is another that would likely die without medical attention and is another that they're easing the pain for.
Eventually, the number of wounded men diminishes, either because they've been cured and sent back to their quarters or because they've been driven away in the ambulances. Those who remain have the least life-threatening injuries, and most are acutely alert, watching the Commandos in action to pass the time until they're cleared.
The Commandos eventually run out of patients to transfer and collapse with exhaustion against the trench wall again, Dernier's eyes drooping shut immediately. Isabel makes her way back to Steve to see how his leg is healing, not at all surprised to see it nearly completely scarred, nothing more than a large red welt.
"You'll be fine," she promises.
"As always," Dugan says. "Give the rest of us some'a that serum, would ya?"
"You'd have to talk to Stark about that request," Steve retorts.
"So, the stations…?" Isabel asks.
"All destroyed," Steve promises. "We've set up positions along the German line to ensure that we hold it. They'll easily be able to take it from here."
"And what are they fighting to get toward? What's beyond the stations?"
"The road to Berlin. This is the closest the Allies have gotten so far, and they were trying to hold them back as long as they could," Steve says easily. "They're just one step closer now. They'll rest and recover, maybe get in some more backup, and then they'll continue pushing forward."
"Well, that explains why it was so heavily guarded," Isabel says. "Honestly, I have no idea where we actually are. I get so turned around."
"That's why you aren't in charge of the maps," Dugan says helpfully, interjecting into their conversation.
"Anyway, all that matters is that Phillips and all the big guys like what we did," Steve says offhandedly.
"They will. And I think Phillips will be proud of you, you did good."
Steve frowns, looking contemplative. "He's proud of Captain America," he argues, a hint of bitterness to his tone.
"That may be," Isabel says with a shrug of her shoulder. "But I'm proud of Steve Rogers."
"Then that's all that matters."
