In the Face of my Enemy
How many people do AU oneshots anyway? Considering it isn't even that long… but this idea grabbed ahold of me and refused to let go. Oh, well.
Warning: Reference to the Judeo-Christian God inside here. If you find that sort of thing offensive, consider yourself warned.
Setting: World War II era, 3rd quarter of 1944, Europe
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The truck rumbled along the rutted road, the engine sounding like some mortally wounded beast that refused to die. The stench of gunpowder filled the air, and the all-pervasive heat filled the back of the troop transport.
Sweat poured freely down the forehead of Amelia as she used her sleeve to wipe it away for what seemed to be the umpteenth time in the past five minutes. A quick glance told the tough fabric was nearly soaked through, and would be of no more help to her.
Abruptly, a whistling shell exploded to the left of them, jolting the transport but not overturning it. Several of the soldiers glanced up and muttered several unkind words about their own side not looking where they were aiming, but for the most part they were too weary to care.
As she sat there, she mentally wondered what exactly had inspired her to sign up for this. She had been enjoying a nice, quiet life back in America when the war had started, and, solely on basis of her gender, she had not been required to sign up for the army, travel all the way to some foreign European country and 'do her part' to fight off the Germans.
So why was she here, signed up as a company nurse, in company of men who had an extreme tendency to view her as a walking piece of eye candy, and doing her best to survive this wretched affair and to get home safely?
Not that she had much to go home too, of course. A sad chuckle escaped her as she contemplated returning to the one-room apartment she'd had within walking distance of the college she attended. It had never seemed so appealing until now.
Another jolt rattled the shaking transport. What had inspired whomever it was in charge to give the soldiers winter gear anyway? The merciless sun was the single greatest source of torment to the soldiers during these long, monotonous periods. She could practically hear her every cell in her body screaming for relief. However, she was under the distinct impression that loosening her shirt wasn't going to be an effective way to go about things. Being the only female in the entire platoon was a definite downside.
Amelia closed her eyes, trying to catch some shuteye before the next, inevitable, battle.
Ashes and pits and thirst and dust, dust, dust…
Amelia stumbled blindly through yet another blinding cloud of dust, choking and coughing. She had long since been separated from the rest of her platoon mates, and was now on the frontlines, completely lost, and feeling a uniquely draining sense of desperation.
Why on earth had that shell had to land right on the trees above them? Two of her comrades had been obliterated instantly in the heat of the explosion, and the forward few had suffered heavy shrapnel wounds. Her first instinct would have been to treat them, or at least move them into a slightly safer position, but then an ambush of Germans…
She caught sight of another dark shape rapidly becoming bigger, and resisted the urge to throw herself flat onto the ground. Her sergeant had told her about this. Unlike artillery landing in an open area, where the shrapnel was hurled into the air upon impact with the ground, here the shells crashed into the trees, creating a deadly hail of fragmented metal. Standing still and saying a prayer would be your best bet.
Thankfully, nothing hit her, and she was able to continue her trek. Her compass was broken, and she was running largely on memory. If she recalled right, she was currently trapped in the little belt between the Allied and Axis combat lines, and the front line of her own side would be that way…
Another muffled explosion sounded to her right, and subconsciously, she turned around to look in that general direction. At the rate she was going, it'd take a miracle for her to make it back alive… She shouldn't even have been out here, blast it, she was a nurse, for goodness' sakes-
Suddenly, she stumbled, tripping over something on the ground. As her hands hit the dirt, she heard a muffled groan coming from behind her.
Whirling, she caught sight of the thing she had tripped over – an outstretched leg. She also saw what the leg was connected to – a young, fair-haired lad who appeared only semiconscious.
Clambering to her feet, she was about to offer him a hasty word of apology when her brain registered the uniform he was wearing, and she froze.
The boy before her was a German. His head lolled weakly from side to side, one arm placed over his stomach, half-covering a blackish-red stain on the uniform. The other lay limply at his side, and she could see two – no, three – bullet holes in that one.
As her still stunned mind continued to sort and process her surroundings – the boy was lying in a shallow depression, likely the result of several earlier explosions, and he was still bleeding pretty badly.
She wasn't sure how long she stood there, mentally pondering what she was supposed to do. What she was sure of, however, was the boy cracking his eyes open, and staring into her face with quiet desperation. "Wasser." He begged. "Water."
Instinctively, Amelia took a half-step back. She understood what the boy was asking – she'd studied German as an extra subject in High School – but… but… but you just didn't go around helping the enemy!
The boy's arm shifted slightly- towards her. "Wasser…" He said again. "Bitte." He took a deep, gasping breath. His gray-green eyes held an innocence she never would have expected, but right now what shown through was confused terror – something much like what she was feeling. She wanted to run away, leave the boy to his wounds… and yet… and yet…
Amelia hesitated for a second, before taking a step closer. Almost mechanically, her hand moved to the regulation canteen she had strapped to her side. Swiveling open the cap, she stepped forward, half-expecting the youth to have been playing a ruse and to leap up at her with a concealed weapon.
But that didn't happen, and crouching beside him, she brought the canteen to his lips, tipping it slightly so the clear liquid found it's way into his mouth. She idly noted that his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
Finally, his thirst appeared to have been quenched, and she pulled the bottle away, as the wounded boy stared at her curiously. Finally, he ventured a question. "Amerikanisch?" He whispered.
"…" Amelia settled for a nod.
If he was surprised by the revelation, he didn't show it. He leaned back again against the ashen ground, eyes sliding closed again.
In the distance, the sound of another explosion rumbled through the woods. Amelia glanced up, then pulled herself closer to the youth. She didn't know why… but she wanted to do what she could for him.
A few minutes later, she found herself going over the wounds on his body. She was nervous, and the almost habitual activity soothed her, filling her mind with easily understandable data, blocking out worrisome thoughts over the ethics of helping… well, Germans.
Gently shifting his arm aside, she barely stifled a gasp at the ugly gash on his stomach. How on earth had he received that wound? A quick check of the leg also revealed another wound near an artery. It hadn't severed the vessel, or the boy would long since have bled to death by now. As it were, his chances of survival were slim at best.
Standing back, she fumbled around in her pack for a couple a moments. She knew she'd put those blasted bandages in here somewhere… Ah, there it was!
Glancing up, she noted the boy was now glancing curiously at her. Offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she held up the tightly rolled bundle of white cloth to show that she was trying to help.
Inwardly, she groaned. She'd studied German before, enough to understand some of the words, but she'd get no headway in trying to make intelligible sentences. As she crouched down beside the boy unraveling the bandages from the roll, she wondered if there was any way to communicate with him-
Oh. Duh.
Making sure that he was watching, she pointed to herself. "Amelia." She said, hoping he understood.
The light of understanding dawned on the boy's face, and a gentle smile formed. "Franz." He replied. He took another deep breath.
Focusing on her work, Amelia did her best to staunch the bleeding from the worst of the wounds. He'd probably received his injuries recently, or he'd almost certainly have been dead by now. For his part, Franz remained relatively quiet, focusing on conservation of his strength.
As she continued to work, the extent of his injuries became more and more apparent to Amelia. Chief among them was the ugly gash across his stomach, which, despite her best efforts, continued to let his life's blood drain away.
Suddenly, she felt the brush of fingers against her arm. Looking up again, she noted Franz had tilted his head enough to look her in the eye. She could see fear apparent in his eyes. "Bin Ich... Bin ich Gehen zu sterben?" He asked. "Am I… going to die?"
The expression on Amelia's face was the only answer he needed. Closing his eyes once again, he laid his head once more on the ground. A single sparkling tear leaked out from his eye.
Trying to quieten the storm within her, she reached over and grasped his hand. "It's all right." She said soothingly. "I'm here. I'll be here." Not that he understood any of her words, of course, but what he needed most right now was someone by his side. He wouldn't die alone.
Franz was silent for a minute or so. Then, reaching, he indicated a billfold in his pants. Helping him pull it out, Amelia opened it and held it close to him.
"Abbildung." Franz whispered in between raspy breaths. Amelia nodded and dug through the tiny wad of Reichsmarks, until she found the solitary photograph.
It held the picture of a young man, though seemingly older than Franz. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he held a cocky, devil-may-care expression on his face.
Silently she handed the picture to him, letting him take a last look at what was presumably his family. After a moment, Franz smiled at her, saying. "Bruder."
Amelia nodded her understanding. Then, moving closer again, she took his hand in her own.
Amelia wasn't show how long she sat by his side, occasionally whispering comforting words to him. There was no longer anything she could do to save him, so all she could do… all she could do was to stay by his side.
She just sat together with him, hearing the thuds of artillery, and the shouts and cries… sometimes fading, sometimes getting closer.
She was half-asleep when she heard a tiny mumble at her side. "Franz?" She asked as she turned.
He breathed in deeply. "Der Lord ist mein Schäferhund, ich wünscht nicht." He whispered, his voice barely audible. "Er läßt mich in den grünen Weiden unten liegen; er… er führt mich… mich neben dem ruhigen Wasser."
The 23rd Psalm… Amelia recognized as she continued to hold his hand. Silently, she prayed that he would find peace.
Franz barely seemed aware of her presence now. "Er stellt meine Seele wieder her; er führt mich in den Wegen von righteousnes für Grund seines Namens." He continued, his voice growing ever fainter.
He gasped for air once more, then continued. "Ja, obwohl ich gehe-" His voice lapsed into nothingness. He tried again. "Obwohl… ich…" He failed. He no longer had the strength to speak.
Amelia was barely aware of the tears running down her face as she watched him struggling to form the next word. Her grip on his hand tightened. "Yea." She said softly, yet loud enough that she could be heard. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." The words she had memorized again and again as an infant came back to her so easily now.
Franz managed to roll his head enough to watch her. As she gazed longingly down at him, she could feel, for the briefest instant, his grip on her hand tighten as well.
"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil. My cup runs over." Amelia leaned in closer, desperate that he should hear the very last verse. "Surely goodness and-" She swallowed hard past the tightness in her throat. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
Franz continued his deep, gasping breaths, and Amelia was just beginning to wonder if he had not been too far gone to hear her or whether he had the slightest understanding of what she had saidd, when the most beatific smile she had ever seen spread across his face.
He could not speak, but the look on his face said it all. Thank you.
"Sleep sweetly, Franz." Amelia whispered to him.
Slowly, slowly, the eyes closed, the light of life fading out from them. A long, last breath of air exuded from whitening lips. His grip on her hand slackened.
It was nearly night when they found her, cradling the head of a young soldier in her arms. One look and the Sergeant could tell the boy was dead.
"There you are, Amelia!" He exclaimed, hurrying towards her. "Another hour and we'd probably have tried to contact your next of kin!"
"Commander Duessel." She acknowledged as she looked up at him. Duessel's hurried walk slowed down considerably as he regarded the corpse she cradled. The uniform…
"Was he- was he a Jerry?" Dumb question, but then again, he'd never been very comfortable with ordering a woman about in his squad…
He caught sight of a tired smile as Amelia bent to regard the still form of the boy.
"His name was Franz." She said softly.
Acknowledgments: I used Babelfish for the English to German translations, so if the grammar and sentence structuring is messed up, I blame it all on them. (sweatdrops)
Most of the German words should be easily translated based on the context, but, if anyone has any trouble and would like me to help with translations, e-mail me or something and I'll send a list to you.
Thank you for reading. Please review.