Part VII: "I want to give you everything you deserve"
Military training was everything Olivier had hoped it would be. She woke up every morning excited about what the day would bring. Her class of cadets studied weapons, combat and strategy, practiced military maneuvers and exercised for hours. Never in her life had she spent so much time doing things she actually enjoyed. She became Armstrong, gladly shedding a first name that was tinged with her family's regret.
The other cadets complained a lot, but that didn't surprise her. Most were dilettantes in her mind, unserious about the military, not having sacrificed what she had. But Armstrong kept these opinions to herself and largely impressed her instructors by being driven, eager and willing to stretch herself to her limits. She excelled in most areas, and aced every written test, having already studied the materials in Reggie's apartment. Her strengths were hand-to-hand combat, weapons and strategy. Her weaknesses were fitness, as she was small compared to the other cadets, and as the head instructor, Major Thompson, wrote in her first evaluation, "following orders does not come naturally to Armstrong".
The only thing that Armstrong didn't like was that there were a few other cadets who bullied her. She was the only woman in her class and one of the first ten to join the military, and some of her peers were opposed to that. When she'd boarded the bus to training, she'd heard a voice call out,
"Bitch!" as she squeezed through the aisle, looking for an empty seat. It was a harbinger of things to come. Armstrong slept in a tent outside the barracks because they hadn't built a women's area yet, and one night she came back to find a dead mouse on her pillow. This didn't bother her at all, she just threw it out the tent window, and turned the pillow over. But then one morning her boots disappeared. She ran to the quartermaster's to get a new pair, but he was on leave for the week. She ended up going to roll call barefoot.
To Major Thompson's credit, he disciplined the other cadets by making them do hard labour while Armstrong rode the train to Eastern to get a new pair. No one talked to her at dinner that night, but she could tell they were more angry at whoever had stolen the boots. She thought that might be the end of her problems until they started playing Capture the Flag.
The game was easily Armstrong's favorite part of training. They would split a field into halves, and each side would try and steal a flag from the other side in simulated knife combat. If you stabbed someone with a wooden stick in a vulnerable area, they had to leave the game, either with or without making sound, depending on where you stabbed them.
The other cadets were really bad at the game, Armstrong observed the first time they played. No one was thinking about the strategies they'd learned in the classroom. She hid behind a tree, waiting for both sides to kill each other, which didn't take long. Peering out, she saw that there were six cadets left, all from the opposing team running towards her team's flag. It wasn't ideal, but she thought she could handle it. She waited until they walked by, not monitoring their environment correctly, got them all from behind and took their team's flag.
"That was excellent, Armstrong!" Major Thompson called out. But she could tell the cadets she snuck up on were mad.
"They're all going to gang up on you next time," a cadet on her team named Dickie warned her.
"Let's team up then," she said with a smile, "I bet you could take out like twelve guys while they're all focusing on me."
Armstrong acted like it was no big deal, but she was worried. She could see the cadets she'd beaten crowded in a group, snapping and snarling, angry to have been bested by a woman.
They all went off to dinner, and while Armstrong was waiting in line, one of those cadets grabbed her from behind, while another undid her pants and pulled them to her knees. Then the rest of them surrounded her, pointing and laughing at her in her underwear. She quickly pulled out of the first cadet's grip and broke his arm, flipping him over onto the floor.
It was at that exact moment that she realized that if she was going to get through her training, if she was going to get further than that, she was going to have to be fearless and terrifying. Armstrong had started carrying a knife after the mouse incident. She didn't really think she needed it, but it was good to have just to be safe. Major Thompson had seen it the next day during uniform inspection and not said anything, which she took as approval. She pulled the knife out of her sagging pants.
There was another knife on the counter, left by a cook who was cutting bread and she grabbed it as well. She started slashing at the cadets in front of her, hitting the one who had undone her pants in the chest, and grazing the arms of a few others. With the other hand, she stabbed at the crotch of another one, missing but slashing his thigh, which really got the others running.
Standing over the man with the broken arm, with blood dripping from both knives, she looked at the cadets in the circle that had formed to watch her from a safe distance.
"Does anyone else want to go?" she yelled, "Does anyone else want to try me?"
They stared back wide-eyed. The cadet on the floor gasped slightly. Armstrong stomped on his broken arm over and over angrily, making the bone poke through his skin, until he was writhing in pain. She kicked him in the side, hoping she would break his ribs, until she felt someone come up behind her and grab her.
"What are you doing, Armstrong?" a voice boomed. It was Major Thompson. Armstrong went limp, she had already spent two nights in the brig for insubordination and did not want to repeat the experience.
"Sir, they tried to take my pants off," she explained. Thompson let her go.
"Well don't do that," he yelled at the crowd of cadets, and walked off, stepping slightly on the fingers of the one on the floor.
It was pandemonium as the cadets tried to get their injured friends to the medical bay. Armstrong ignored it. She fixed her pants, wiped the kitchen knife on her shirt, and handed it to the kitchen staff, apologizing for having taken it without permission. Then she picked up her tray, walked to a table and sat down. She ate her dinner slowly, with blood dripping off her hands, pretending that nothing was going on around her, trying not to look too satisfied with her small victory.
Eventually, Dickie sat down next to her, as did a friend of his, Michaels.
"That was so cool," Dickie exclaimed, "We hate those guys."
It was her first lesson in finding allies. Of course she wasn't the only person being harassed by other cadets. That night Dickie and Michaels came outside with tents and sleeping bags.
"We thought we'd sleep near you," Michaels explained. Armstrong wasn't so worried about the cadets who had attacked her, they were all injured, but she knew this was a gesture she couldn't refuse.
"Thank you," she said.
Major Thompson woke the cadets early the next day, and gave them a long lecture about respect. He explained that some people had been sent home because they hadn't shown it.
"What about stabbing people with knives?" a cadet called out afterwards. Thompson scolded him for talking out of turn and sent him to run laps.
Training went smoothly after that. Armstrong continued to stand out and she, Dickie and Michaels spent every spare moment coming up with elaborate strategies to win Capture the Flag. Eventually, she was moved to the other team, which she considered a good sign. They wanted to give all the cadets an opportunity to work with her. She was a natural leader, calling out commands and making split second decisions. Her team almost always won.
One night, Armstrong was resting in her tent when Major Thompson called from outside,
"Armstrong, do you have a minute?"
"I'm in civies, is that okay sir?" she yelled back.
"It's fine," he said. This seemed strange to her.
"If you get fresh with me I'll break your neck!" she called out. Thompson chuckled,
"I know."
Thompson led Armstrong to a large office. She noticed a man sitting in the corner and recognized him as a Colonel. Armstrong wished Thompson had told her to change into her uniform, she was wearing a pink sweatsuit with hearts over the ankles that Reggie had found abandoned at a laundry. She felt mortified.
Thompson explained that they had set up a map, and were re-enacting various battle scenarios and deciding on the best course of action. They had placed different tokens on the map to represent units of soldiers, equipment and other locations. Armstrong and Thompson went through a few while the Colonel watched wordlessly.
She was called in a few times, sometimes with other cadets and sometimes with other officers watching. Eventually she was notified that she'd been selected for officer training once her basic training was finished. Major Thompson called Armstrong into his office before she left and asked her where she wanted to be assigned afterwards. He offered to send her to Central. This was far too good an assignment for someone so early in their career, even considering how well she'd done in her training. She wondered if her father had figured out where she was and called in a favor.
"I want to start in the same place as everyone else," she told him, and eventually they settled on Eastern.
"Sir, I also want to thank you," Armstrong said before she stepped out, "I owe you a lot of gratitude for helping me be successful in my training."
Armstrong meant it in her heart, she knew she could have never finished training without him on her side. Moreover, there were rumours spreading among the cadets and even other officers that she and Thompson were having an inappropriate relationship. So Thompson's support had not come without a cost to him.
As Armstrong rode the bus back to Eastern, the other cadets were so excited, talking about bars, and warm showers and parties. She didn't understand. This training had been the best ten weeks of her life.
"Are you ready?" Rebecca asked as she adjusted Hakweye's veil across her face. They were standing in a hallway leading to the courtyard of the Fuhrer's mansion. Hawkeye was wearing a wide lace wedding dress and carrying a large bouquet.
"Locked and loaded," Hawkeye joked, and Rebecca tittered slightly.
"I bet you have like ten guns under there," Rebecca jibed back. It really was a huge dress.
Fuhrer Grumman appeared and linked arms with Hawkeye. Rebecca walked behind them, lifting Hawkeye's veil. Soft music started, and they slowly entered the courtyard. Hawkeye saw Mustang in the distance. He was standing still and solemn in his uniform with Havoc standing next to him. Havoc had never seemed right as a best man, but as Mustang had lamented, now that Hughes was dead, he didn't really have any close friends. But there were so many people missing, starting with both of their parents. Maybe that was what a wedding was, a fierce assertion of joy in the midst of death and decay.
Hawkeye looked at Mustang as she walked down the aisle. Taking him in, she was filled with intense happiness. He was the only one, she had always known that. His eyes were shining as he pulled back her veil and took her hands.
Words rang out. Words flowed from both their mouths, merged together and flew into the sky. But they didn't matter. They were tiny, imperfect declarations of the vast love between them. As they kissed, her heart soared. They were together forever. What did it matter if everything else fell away? She felt like she was floating.
The wedding was a subdued affair. Grumman had invited many of his friends and colleagues and no one wanted to party hard in front of so many senior officers. Friends made bland, complimentary speeches about the couple, and mingled quietly. Catherine Armstrong caught Hawkeye's bouquet, after which her father quipped,
"Well, I better get to work," which was probably the most daring thing anyone said at the whole event.
Soon, Hawkeye and Mustang were walking towards his car, past lines of guests who were shouting well wishes and throwing confetti. They waved and smiled as they drove off. Hawkeye gave off a big sigh as they turned the corner. She was joyful, but she was also exhausted and was looking forward to getting back to Mustang's apartment and taking off her heavy dress. Halfway through the drive, Hawkeye realized they were moving in the wrong direction.
"Where are we going?" she asked, but Mustang just smiled slyly. Eventually, he turned into a residential neighborhood and pulled up in front of a house.
"This is our new home," he explained. She looked at it in awe. It had a yard and a garden. It was beautiful.
"You didn't," she stammered.
He leaned towards her and put his arms around her,
"I want to start our marriage in the place we'll raise our family and I want to give you everything you deserve."
She pressed her cheek against his. Mustang helped Hawkeye out of the car, lifting her large dress, and they walked towards the house. He opened the door and lifted Hawkeye over the threshold.
"Welcome home," he whispered as he held her in his arms and kissed her.