Chapter 1: The First Christmas
Christmas Eve, 1944, France
No one would have guessed from the smiles of the boys in the audience that a war was going on. Or maybe they would have, because they looked tired and worn out, wore uniforms, and were holding guns and helmets.
Two young men occupied on the stage. One was plunking out a melody on a dilapidated piano they had found in the basement of the nearly demolished church that was the venue of their entertainment that evening. The other stood center stage, singing. The discomfort of the boys in the audience melted away for a few seconds as they listened to a voice from the heavens serenade them. There wasn't a dry eye in the house when he was done.
During the performance, some of the audience members in the back noticed an older gentleman wander in the door. They stood up immediately but he shook his head and gestured for them to sit down and listen to the performance.
"We'd like to thank you all for coming to this little show tonight. We can't be home for Christmas, but hoped we could bring a little of home here." He paused as the division applauded. "It's a real shame that General Shepard couldn't be here for out little… yuletide performance tonight. We had something really special planned for him." Another pause as he bent his his, examining his shoes for a moment before clearing his throat. "Now, as we all know General Shepard is retiring, and he goes home in a few days, that lucky bast-"
"Soldier I will not have you filling these boys with sorrow on this previously semi-joyful occasion!" A voice barked from the back. Upon recognizing whom it was, the boys all leapt to their feet, standing at attention.
"I apologize sir! Sir, I didn't mean-" The young man started but General Shepard was already marching towards him, his graying hair cropped short and his lips pursed.
"Quiet! Captain Destler, who's idea was it to hold a, a show when you all should be ready for inspection! You're moving up tomorrow and you gotta' be ready! Now, who's idea was it?"
The taller of the two men, with dark hair and a white mask that covered his whole face except his mouth and chin stepped forward and opened his mouth, but the shorter blonde piano player stepped forward.
"It was me, sir! All my idea, sir! Why, well, it is Christmas Eve, sir and I thought that these men and boys deserved the chance to hear Captain Destler on this holy night! He's a broadway performer sir, straight from NYC, sir and you'd have to pay a pretty penny to hear him there sir, and I-"
"I am well aware of the captain's talents and credentials," the general barked. The boy shrank back. "What's your name soldier?"
"Raoul de Chagny, sir, private first class, sir!" the boy said, saluting. He spoke with a southern drawl that muddled his words slightly, but the general was able to discern his name and rank.
"Well at ease Chagny," he said, eyeing Raoul.
"Yes, sir!" Raoul said, continuing to stand at attention. Shepard had begun to turn away but Raoul's lack of movement caused him to turn back.
"I said at ease!"
Raoul blinked and then shifted his feet, "Yes of course, sorry sir."
"This division is now under the command of General Roger F. Franklin. He's a hard nut to crack, and I doubt he will! He's tough, just what you sloppy lot need. If I hear even a whisper of you all misbehaving, I'll enlist with the enemy and cause hell for you all. Have a merry Christmas. Now," he turned to Erik. "How do I get out of here."
"Well sir, we have an ending planned for you now," he said, a glimmer of enthusiasm shinning through.
"Yes, sir!" Raoul said excitedly as he pushed the piano further to the side of the stage. Erik motioned to the band, and they struck up a bright tune. Erik and Raoul sang as the general made his way down the aisle, shaking hands and smiling at the boys around him. He was halfway to the door when the low whir of planes could be heard outside. They knelt for cover and waited for a minute, before continuing to sing softly once the threat has passed. The General turned and gave them a final salute before climbing into a waiting jeep. They stood in silence, watching as he drove off. Erik looked around at the men and boys around him and couldn't hold back a sudden wave of anger that they weren't somewhere warm and safe, with girlfriends or wives or families. A second wave overcame him, this time one of jealousy.
The sound of explosions and the sudden rain of debris on them startled the division out of their revery. Crouching low, they all ran in a variety of directions, but all of them were away from the explosions. Another bomb went off to their left, causing a shower of splinters to fall on them.
Erik and Raoul ran towards the main road, through the doorway of the last remaining wall of the church. Erik shouted commands and didn't notice as the wall of the church began to sway dangerously.
"Captain, move!" Raoul cried. Erik turned and was met by Raoul running at him, tackling him pushing him sharply to his right. A loud crash came from behind them. He tackled Erik to the ground and they rolled under the bed of a truck, shielding them as more debris crashed down around them. They turned and saw that the wall had collapsed to where they had previously been standing. Erik sputtered and checked himself, feeling his face making sure his mask was still in place. Once he was certain he was covered he turned to face Raoul.
"Are you alright?" he asked. The private was sitting up beside him, cradling his arm.
"Right as rain, Captain," he said, wincing as he tried to rotate his wrist.
"Come on. Let's get you to the medical tent," he said, helping the younger man to his feet. They ran across the camp to the tent with a red cross on the roof. Nurses and doctors were bustling around, helping wounded soldiers.
"What's wrong soldiers?" an approaching nurse asked, eyeing them for obvious damage.
"My arm, ma'am," Raoul said, gesturing to his arm which he had held close to his chest.
"Come over here," she said, steering him towards a cot. She turned back to Erik, almost nervous to say what she needed to. "If you don't mind, there are enough people in here as it is…"
"I'll be on my way," Erik said. The sounds of planes from above hadn't halted quite yet. He turned and hurried out of the tent, ready to sort out the men outside.
The next morning Raoul was laying on his cot, his arm in a sling with a splint.
"A rough sprain," the doctor said, patting him on the shoulder. "You'll be good as new in no time."
Raoul nodded. He had twisted his ankle once as a kid and remembered it hurting worse, but then again, he had been a kid and his pain tolerance was much lower then. He liked to think that he had toughened up some since then. He had only been in Europe for a few months. He had joined up after his birthday. His mother cried and begged him to wait till he was twenty and had to sign up for the draft, but he said no. Phil was already flying planes in the south pacific, and he wanted to do his part. Some of his friends had tried to convince him to join up when they were 16, but his mother had threatened to lock him in his room and bar the windows.
"My baby isn't going to war! You don't even do your own laundry, Raoul!" she screamed at him, hysterical.
"Listen to your mother," his dad shouted. That had been the end of that conversation.
"Good morning, private," a voice said, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw the captain standing over him, as imperious as ever, especially with combed hair and what appeared to be clean pants.
'Lucky bastard,' Raoul thought. The Captain's mask had been cleaned as well, though Raoul thought back and couldn't remember a time when his mask hadn't been spotless.
"Good morning, Captain," he said. Erik nodded and Raoul sat up, gesturing for him to sit.
"I just wanted to stop in to thank you," he said, somewhat gruffly.
"Why's that, Captain?" Raoul asked, sitting up straighter. He didn't know the Captain well. He had only met him personally a couple months prior and then reintroduced again a week before when he volunteered to help at the show the previous evening.
"I know how to tap dance too, Captain!" he said enthusiastically when Erik asked over some of his other skills that could be incorporated into the show.
"Excellent. That will fit in nicely," Erik said somewhat skeptical of his abilities.
"Well, Chagny, you saved my life last night," Erik said, gratitude filling his voice.
"It was a life worth saving," Raoul said. Erik couldn't help but scoff at that but cleared his throat when Raoul gave him questioning look.
"Anyways, I just wanted you to know if you ever need anything. Even after all this-" he gestured vaguely around them. "-just give me a holler."
"Will do, Captain," Raoul said with a smile. He did have something in mind, if he could get the nerve to ask him. Erik nodded and stood up. Raoul deliberated before calling after him. Erik had only made it a few steps and turned to look at him with an arched brow.
"There is something you could do for me, sir," Raoul said. Erik walked back towards him and sat down. "Well, I know you have a show, sir, and I am a fan, sir, I am. My sister, Luc and I, we listen to you whenever you're on the-" Erik sighed impatiently and Raoul got the point.
"Well sir, I wrote you a song."
"A song?"
"Yes sir, a song. For your act, when we're back in the states. It's not much but I thought it might get a few hits," Raoul explained.
"Well, like I said, just give me a call-"
"I have it right here, sir!" Raoul said pulling out a few pieces of paper from under his pillow. He handed them to a skeptical Erik, who took them nevertheless. He barely glanced at it before scoffing.
"This is a duet, Chagny. I'm a solo act," he said, looking at the younger boy. Raoul nodded, undeterred.
"Well, yes sir. I know a guy. Could be a household name. He has a fair voice, carries a tune alright, I mean, charismatic enough. He can dance okay-"
Erik gave him another look.
A lump formed in Raoul's throat. He swallowed it and continued. "It's me sir."
Erik was silent for a moment before laughing. A few people looked at him strangely. It wasn't often you heard laughter in the medical tent.
"You, private?" he asked when he saw Raoul's furrowed brow. He was serious.
"Yes sir. But I understand if you don't want to," Raoul said, massaging his arm lightly. "I wouldn't want you to feel any pressure, because of certain events. No sir. Only if you think it's a good idea."
Erik watched as Raoul patted his wrist. He pinched his brow and sighed.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered before looking up at the hopeful boy. "Fine. We'll give it shot once this is all over."
"Oh thank you Captain!" Raoul cried, removing his arm from his sling to shake Erik's hand.
Raoul quickly replaced his hand, still grinning ear to ear. He had wanted to be a performer ever since parents had taken him to the city as a kid and they saw Ziegfield's Follies, maybe not the most appropriate show for a five year old, but it enraptured him nonetheless. He was struck by another pang of longing for the war to be over, but chided himself. Here he was, eager to go home so he could sing and dance, when people were dying. Trying to push thoughts of his name up in lights on a marquis aside, he laid back down on his cot, grateful for the moment of rest he could have.