I am trying to update as regularly as possible but these reviews are getting me down! I thought I would give you this little tid bit and hopefully gauge more of a reaction. But as always, it is subject to the fancies of the reader. Tell me what you think! To people that leave in depth reviews, I salute you!
This story is deep. I wanted to try and capture the atmosphere, and whether I did that successfully is up to you guys. Let me know!
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't sue me.
The boat ride took a week before they saw land. They landed and were greeted by American, French, and English soldiers alike. The medics were herded together for classes, Darien included. There wasn't a minute of free time. He was either in class or out in the field with his squad. Once back in his quarters, he would immediately fall into bed, dead on his feet. He felt bad; he hadn't written Serena in over two weeks.
He was in and out of shooting practice and class. Yes, he would have a gun. Yes, he would have to shoot men. He didn't like it, but this was war. It was a brutal fact that some men didn't realize until on the battlefield. But he knew what it meant. Not only was he expected to defend his men, he was expected to cure them also. He would carry more gear than the rest of the squad. He was constantly lifting weights to keep up his stamina.
June was fast approaching. He got a call from the General that was heading his particular division and him and his squad went to his quarters.
"Captain Andrew Thomas, your squad is being reassigned. We decided to send less men behind enemy lines. You're needed on the front. Prepared to be debriefed. We're reassigning your battalion to centralize."
"Yes sir," Andrew said promptly.
"You'll be invading Omaha Beach. With the first infantry."
"It's an honor sir," Andrew told him. They bowed their heads and headed out.
"Oh, yeah, Shields," the General called out. Darien walked back and stood in front of him. He handed him a pen and a piece of paper. "Heard you have a girl back home."
"Yes sir. Just recently married."
"She's written you some letters you know." He took a stack of letters off his desk. "The rest are getting there's tomorrow, but you had such a large amount, I thought you should get a head start. All from the same person, a Mrs. Serena Shields." Darien stared at them in wonderment. There was at least two weeks worth of letters from Serena. He rubbed his hands over her script. It was small and feminine, embodying her perfectly.
"Thank you sir," Darien said breathlessly.
"You're welcome," he replied, turning around and going back to his desk. Darien walked out of his office and opened the first letter that was dated for nearly two weeks ago. Unfortunately, he only got to the second paragraph when he reached the debriefing room. Then he spent an hour hearing of the operations. The letters burned in his pocket. But he had to listen if he wanted to stay alive. It killed him, the itch to ignore and take them out was seething under his skin.
Once outside, he climbed on a metal crate and took out the letters, admiring her penmanship again. They were from her. They were a little piece of her that was all his in Europe.
He read them all, by himself, outside by the fire. Sometimes they made him almost want to cry, but that was a weakness he wouldn't show. But they made him smile and laugh. She sounded as if she was doing well, but he knew sometimes it was just a front.
She had gotten a dog. It was a black lab. His fur had reminded Serena of Darien's hair. He didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. He assumed it good. She was trying to train the dog, but she said she was too nice. She was afraid how their child would turn out.
A few members came over and looked at what he was doing, sending cat calls his way. Shields' wife was gaining quite a following. He ignored it, entranced by the small words scattered over the numerous pieces of paper.
In the last letter, she had sent another picture of herself. She was sitting at the diner with a milkshake, smiling. His eyes filled with liquid but it never fell.
Dear Darien,
It's been a couple of weeks since I have last heard from you. I miss you terribly. I am sure you are very busy with military things left and right. I try to keep busy too. Ralph is as playful as ever. I can't wait until you meet him! The girls love him and he showers them with kisses whenever they come by. I can't wait to shower you with kisses. But not the slobbery kind Ralphie gives.
I don't know when this letter will reach you. I have been listening to President Roosevelt's fireside chats. He tells about the sacrifice of "our boys" and how it will not be in vain. I am afraid. I don't want to be, but I am. I slept over at my house last night. The loneliness got the best of me. And Mina is coming over tonight to keep me company.
I still imagine you in the bed. When I can't go to sleep, I put the picture of you in your uniform at the park next to me. Ralph sleeps in the bed with me now. Sometimes he pees, but I don't mind. He eats some of your dinner too! So at least it doesn't go to waste. Raye thinks I am crazy that I make you dinner every night. Amy says it is my way of coping. I don't know what it is, all I know is it makes me feel better.
School ended and I am working every day at the recruit center. Sometimes I do secretary work. Remember when we met? That was one of the best days of my life, even though I didn't know it at the time. I hope that I can stay busy enough. They're organizing a women's war effort group in town. I think I am going to join it.
Missing you more every day,
Serena
Darien clutched at the picture of her. He looked on the back and in her neat scrawl was "May 17, 1944. Picture taken by Mary Schuler." He looked at it and the last letter for another half an hour before putting each away in a special pocket of his backpack. He then set on the ground and using the crate he had been sitting on began to write her a letter.
My darling Serena,
So sorry for the delay! You're right; I have been swamped at work. They've changed plans about where we're supposed to be deployed. Now we're headed to France on the front apparently. I don't know if the danger factor has changed. Regardless, I will have the same outcome. Victory.
That is great about the dog! Ralph sounds like a lot of fun and I can't wait to meet him. I am glad that girls are helping you out and you are spending some nights at home. Remember; go there when you need to. Don't feel obliged to stay at the house. That's why I bought it so close to yours. Keep making me dinner every night. The news that you do feeds me enough.
We're headed out in five days apparently. I probably won't get to write you as often as I would like. Please keep writing me though. These letters have provided me with a new sense of invigoration. The General delivered them to me especially because of the plethora. So maybe if you write me enough, I will get them sooner. I understand if you can't write every day. In fact, don't, because it could make you sadder. But I know that you are always thinking of me. I am constantly thinking of you and your bright smile. I can't wait to be home and walk the streets of Langley with you.
I love you. More than anyone will ever understand.
Love, Darien
It was June 6, Serena was walking down the street, home from work, when she heard the shouts of the newsboys. She turned and on the corner one stood with the evening post. She ran over to him, looking in her purse for change. On the cover was the bold emblazoned letters "INVASION." The boy handed her over the copy and she sat on the curb, piecing through it.
American men had stormed the beaches of Normandy and established a foothold in France! Her heart was beating fast as she read on. Apparently, it was particularly gruesome and slow-moving for a few miles of land. But they had beaten the Nazis back. The Russians were gaining and apparently the French nearby were hopeful.
Serena's eyes strolled down to the death count. Hundreds, and counting. Her heart skipped a beat. But Darien was supposed to be behind enemy lines. Which was more dangerous? She ran home and opened the door, Ralph barking. She had already checked the mall today. She had gotten a check from the government and her rations for the week. She picked up her phone and called Amy.
"Hello?" Amy asked.
"Amy! Did you hear?"
"About Normandy? Yes! Have you heard from Darien lately?"
"I sent him out another letter yesterday, but haven't gotten one in return yet. You don't think?"
"Serena, I can't guarantee anything. We will just have to wait and see." That is what Serena was afraid of. She would know faster if Darien was dead than if he was alive. Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. She tried to coax herself out of it, but a picture of Darien lying on some French beach was all she could imagine.
"Amy…" she trailed off.
"Serena, Lita's cooking for you tonight, right?'
"Yes, she should be here any minute."
"Do you need me to come over?"
"Do you think everyone could come?"
"I will round up the troop, as they would say."
"Okay, see you soon." Serena hung up the phone and sat down at the desk, taking out a fresh new piece of stationary she had splurged on. It had sunflowers strewn around it. She began to write.
My Darien,
I haven't heard from you yet. I don't know what to think. I just read the evening post. I don't know where you are, but I hope you are okay. I will find out some of your well-being within the next couple of days. I don't consider myself a staunch Christian, but I am finding I need God more and more these days.
The girls are coming over tonight for dinner. They never sit in your seat at the dinner table. We always put a plate out for you. Ralph is in the habit of jumping up and eating it.
I don't know what to write! All I know is that I hope you're okay! Everyone is talking about it and Roosevelt is scheduled to give a speech tonight. Darien, please come home to me! Soon!
Love always, Serena
After putting the letter into the envelope and sealing it she broke down. It was war from here on out. It was twenty-four hour days, seven days a week, or Darien in constant danger. Her tears spilled onto the letter, creating perfectly symmetrical circles on the stationary. The pen smudged a little, but the address was still readable.
When the girls got there they gathered around her trying to comfort her. She didn't hear them. All she heard was planes and gunshots, explosions and cries of pain. She looked at the letter with Darien's name, squad, and battalion on it. She shook for a little while, Lita's arm around her pulling her close.
By the time dinner was on the table it was very late. Serena said nothing for the rest of the night, just staring into space. The girls didn't go home that night.
Darien looked out at the beach. He was with his troop and another, headed for that beach. It was eerily silent knowing a great battle was about to take place. He felt the pocket where Serena's letters were placed. He had been looking at them over and over again in the past few days. But now, he needed to concentrate. For her sake. For his squad's sake.
"Once you're on the beach, get to the designated points, I cannot stress this enough! We will meet there. I will be there waiting for you!" Darien and the rest nodded. Andrew was showing why he was there leader. His happy attitude had been replaced by one of seriousness and acuteness.
The door dropped and they were off. Darien jumped, but found no bottom. He was sinking before he paddled his way to the top. There were paratroopers jumping above him, bullets flying, and smoke and fire everywhere. He tried to swim as well as he could. He turned to his side and saw Joseph struggled, barely staying above the water. He reached out and grabbed him. Towing him along.
"Shields!" Jason yelled to him. "Let me go or we'll be a target. They need you more than me!"
"They need everyone you fuck!" Darien replied back. He hated using vulgar language, but he needed for Joseph to understand. Once Darien found his footing he pulled Joseph with him and they went up the beach, crouching behind a hedgehog, a metal apparatus used to stop boats from landing directly on the beach. Darien looked behind him. Fallen soldiers were everywhere. Some were so riddled with bullets, he didn't even know if they were human. He felt his gag reflex flutter but then quelled it. He was a medic. He turned to the left and saw Andrew, clutching his leg.
"Andrew!" Darien yelled. He was lying in open space. "Joseph, get to the point! I will meet you there." Joseph nodded, yelling, "COVER FIRE!" Darien ran across and dragging Andrew, narrowly dodging bullets.
"They got my fucking leg!" Andrew yelled. "I was climbing out of the water."
"Just shut up and let me help you!" Darien took out a knife and sheared off his pant leg. He was bleeding but not profusely. This was a good sign. It meant no major artery had been ruptured. Darien took out a pair of pliers from his belt. He opened the wound and Andrew screamed. The bullet was lodged only in flesh. It didn't have a direct trajectory. There were bullets flying everywhere around them. Darien was working as fast as he could.
"Captain!" a voice shouted. Nathaniel was climbing out of the water. He had a cut on his head. "You need some cover?"
"Always helpful," Darien answered. Nathaniel nodded. The men were slowly moving up the beaches. Darien took the bullet from Andrew's leg and threw some antiseptic on it. He then wrapped it tightly. "That one is going to send you home!"
"What? I won't leave you!"
"You don't have a choice. It two through your hamstring. I don't know how we're going to get you up the beach!"
"I'll fucking walk!" Andrew turned and looked.
"COVER FIRE!" Nathaniel yelled. Andrew stood up on his good leg and then took a step with his bad leg and crumbled. Darien than ran out and grabbed him, practically dragging him up the beach.
"We're going to get you to the main point and then you're going to have to let Malcolm lead!"
"Malcolm's dead!" Andrew told him, tears streaming down his dirtied face. "That's how I got this!"
"What happened?" Darien asked.
"He couldn't swim! I tried to save him! I thought the boats would bring us closer. And then, he took a bullet in the face. I tried to pull him to shore, but then I got shot! He's out there floating. Dare, you have to lead them! No one else is fit to!"
"I'm a fucking medic!"
"Just graduated from the Naval Academy. Who better?" Andrew asked. Nathaniel then piled in behind them. "We gotta keep pushing on the beach. If we fall behind, we'll be big targets." The two men nodded.
"COVER FIRE!" Nathaniel shouted. One hedgehog at a time, they moved up the beach, until there was a giant stretch of land left. Luckily, many of the bunkers had been routed at by this time and the destroyers were pounding the battlements. But there was still one live machine gun that was mowing down Allies left and right.
"Leave me here," Andrew told them.
"Shut the fuck up," Nathaniel told him. "I got you this far, I am not about to leave you here you stupid idiot!" Darien nodded his agreement, shouldering most of Andrew's wait. He waited for Nathaniel's shout and was off running.
He ran in zigzags to avoid getting hit. Bullets came close, one even hitting Andrew's bag. Luckily, they reached the hill, temporarily safe from the rain of bullets. Darien looked behind and motioned to Nathaniel, who ran in zigzags also. Darien provided the little cover fire that he could. A bullet ricocheted off Nathaniel's helmet, presenting a scary moment. There was a giant dent in his helmet, and somehow, it fit on his head.
"Holy shit!" Nathaniel screamed when he got to them. Darien looked to his left and Zane was there, rigging some kind of explosive.
"Zane!" Darien called out to him. He turned and nodded his head. He pushed something and ran. The ensuing blast knocked Darien back and propelled Zane forward. "Almost to the point?" Zane nodded his answer. "Okay, Nathaniel go ahead with Zane and try to find Joseph. I told him I would meet him at the point!"
"What about Malcolm?" Zane asked.
"He's dead! Just get to the point!" Darien told him. A look of horror temporarily crossed Zane's face, but he eventually gave it up and turned back to where he had blasted. Soldiers were coming in from all over the place. A few were carrying wounded that still needed medical attention. Darien but Andrew under his arm once again and dragged him to the new whole. The army was pushing forward into the bunkers. The wounded were lying against the walls. One medic was already at work.
Darien went over to a man who had shrapnel in his eye. There was a bandage over it but the blood was pouring through. Darien took over the bandage. He didn't grimace this time. This was a scratch compared to the other men around him.
They had lost too much blood. Many could not manufacture new blood fast enough or receive a transplant.
They would die.
But he would try. He would start with this man, and make sure he did all he could.
While contemplating this outcome, he heard voices getting closer, and they weren't American voices. "Amerikaner!" he heard rather closely. He looked up and there, in a blue uniform, was a German. He was tall with brown hair and dark eyes. He was getting out his gun.
Darien was faster. He pulled the trigger and showered him with bullets. Darien fell beside the wounded.
He had killed a man.
What would Serena think of him?
Stunned into immobility, he sat there for half a minute before a loud explosion shook him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see allied planes bombing further up ahead. He then got back to the man with the shrapnel in his eye, cleaning him up. The dead German's blood was dripping down the walls. He blocked it out of his mind. But then again, it was very red.
Serena was sitting in the kitchen, a week after D-Day, with a letter from Darien in her hands. He had been moved to the front. She was shaking. But she hadn't heard anything yet. And she had to type of notices of death at the recruiting center already. So, was he alive? Was he wounded?
In the letter, he said he had just received all her letters. They had made him happy. She had already written him one back. Actually, many, but without receiving his. It was around noon and she had just eaten. She was due back to the office in a little while. She gathered up her dirty dishes, placed his letter in her pants pocket, and walked out the door.
It was warm, but windy. It was June, but the sea was giving off a particularly breezy afternoon. She walked with a little hop. At least she had heard something from Darien. She longed to hold him at night, but she was getting number. It had been over a month. She knew she could survive a month, she thought she could survive two. She hoped she could survive three. The rest was up in the air.
She entered the office and sat down at her typewriter. Five other women were busy around her, typing at the speed of sound it seemed. She looked on the pile she had to write up. One caught her eyes. It read, "Stop. Captain Andrew Thomas, stop, is to be sent home, stop, because of injuries sustained during battle, stop. Due back on June 30, 1944, stop." Serena jumped out of her seat. She quickly typed it up. She zoomed through the rest of her telegrams, needing to finish them and get to the girls.
She finished by three and was out the door, her supervisor yelling after her. Serena ran down the street all the way to the diner, where she found two of the four people she was looking for. She slammed into the door. "Lita, RAYE!" she yelled.
"What?" they both asked.
"Andrew's coming home!"
"WHAT!?" they both asked again.
"Sustained injuries during battle! He's coming home!" she said happily.
"Is he all right?"
"He's alive!"
"Does it say his injury?"
"No, but he's due back in two weeks!" Serena said excitedly.
"Any news about Darien?" Raye asked. Serena shook her head no. "Well, I am sure he is okay. After all, they go to his squad if they reported about Andrew." Serena nodded, a smile on her face. Darien was alive, and at least with minimal injuries.
Darien was sitting in a bath, cleaning himself. He had been pushing forward for the last week and had reeked of smoke and stank. To his right was another pile of letters he had received from Serena. The last one was dated on D-Day. He had already read through them thousands of times.
The letters she had first written him were smudged and barely legible. They had gotten wet in the ocean when he had stormed the beach. Andrew had gotten to the meeting point and that was as far. They then took him back from the way that he came and brought him to the hospital in England. He was going home.
Nathaniel, Zane, and Joseph had all weathered the storm. They found Malcolm's body later that day washed up on shore. They had a five-minute service that didn't do him justice but it gave them peace. Darien stood up and climbed out, grabbing a rough blanket and drying himself off. He took out the picture of Serena and looked at it once again. It was the one he had sent her. Protected by the other picture, it was the only one to survive his swim ashore. He had a pen and paper waiting for him at the recreation tent that had been set up. Tomorrow, they would begin the march towards Paris. He put his uniform back on and sat down to write her a letter.
Two weeks later, Serena and the girls were standing in the port waiting for Andrew's boat to arrive. He had telegraphed Serena the exact time he would be home from the ship. He needed someone to pick him up and his family didn't have a car. The girls had piled in Serena's, and were now waiting for their friend to return.
Amy spotted him first. They vaulted at him, nearly knocking him off of his crutches. He laughed at them. Serena turned to him first and he answered her without knowing.
"He hasn't had the chance to write you yet? I owe your husband my life." Serena instantly broke into tears. Darien was safe! Darien was safe! "He dragged me up the beach like a doll after I was shot trying to rescue another soldier. He mended me first, and then dragged me up the beach! All that weight lifting he was doing finally paid off!"
"He's all right then? Perfectly happy?"
"I wouldn't say he's perfectly happy. He misses you a lot. When we're not in combat mode, Darien is in Serena mode. All the guys kind of jostle him about it, but they don't have newlyweds back home. They pass around your picture every night." Serena blushed. "Might as well call him the Moonlight Maid Brigade. That's what Darien called you one night, so whenever he's down after thinking about leaving you behind, they all talk of the 'Moonlight Maid,' to piss him off."
"He never tells me these things!"
"Soldiers are vulgar Serena. You probably wouldn't want to know." She blushed yet again. "You should get a letter in the next few days. As far as I know they established a base before pushing for Paris." She nodded.
The ride back was filled with questions for Andrew. Serena was silent. She was ecstatic, but the war wasn't over. Sure, Andrew was home, but when would Darien be back?
She dropped Andrew off at his childhood home to see his parents. His mother came out crying followed by his younger sister. She then dropped the girl's off at their houses and headed home. She thought she would sleep better tonight, knowing Darien had made it through the worst part of the war yet.
When she got home she checked the mailbox and noticed Darien's fine penmanship. It was elegant for a man, surprising for a doctor. She ripped it open and read it standing next to her mailbox.
Dear my Serena,
I made it. I wonder if Andrew is home yet. If he is, tell him I said hi. I wish I could be there for you but these guys need me.
I didn't know just how bad it would be. I don't want to tell you this but you need to understand. I will come back to you as Darien, your Darien, but with some additions. I have seen wounds I never thought possible. I have seen men conquer things that are unheard of. I have seen great men fall to their knees, crying out to God or women.
I have shot a man. Only one so far, a German who ambushed my party. I felt no happiness in this act. In fact, I wondered if you would ever want to be with me ever again. I have spilled blood. I killed a man. I am a doctor, I'm supposed to save people! But I have a feeling this is not the last? Could you ever forgive me?
You are my only salvation Serena. You are my sun to the darkness that I currently am engulfed in. I learn this more and more every day. From now on we're constantly going to be on the move. I still have the milkshake picture. Unfortunately your letters perished when I jumped into the water on the beaches of Normandy. But I have the stack I just received from you. Reading them was one of the happiest moments of my life.
I don't know how much more often I will have to write. My letters will be far too short, far too little, and far too in between. Forgive me.
Yours always, Darien.
Serena had walked into the sitting room by now. She read the letter over and over again. This was a new Darien. This was a Darien who had seen war and horrors she would never experience. She put down the letter.
But she was his salvation. She had to remain strong for him. She was his salvation. It seemed so, heavy a weight to bear. But she needed to shoulder it with him. She would carry him when he returned if she had to. Because he was her salvation too. He was her means into the future she wanted to live in.