Phew! This one has been a challenge to write. Spending time to research the events delayed this update, so I apologize for the long wait.
Anyhoo, warning for violence, death, etc. (It's D-Day, so what do you expect?) Also, June is PTSD Awareness month so I think it accurately fits this chapter.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Operation Overlord
June 1-5 (D-5 to D-1)
Early on June 1st, the 358th left Camp Llagnattock. They headed toward Cariff, Wales, where they met up with the 357th Infantry Regiment and awaited orders from their commanding officers.
The soldiers had little downtime at Cardiff. They spent every waking minute training and preparing for the upcoming mission. Everything became stricter. Nobody could leave Cardiff, schedules had to be on time down to the minute, and shortened mealtimes made room for preparations.
Dread and anticipation hung over the troops like a dark storm cloud, ready to strike the land with powerful lightning strikes. Colonel James Thompson directed the 358th through intense training exercises and scrutinized every detail to ensure everyone knew what to do.
The mere existence of Thompson demanded respect and admiration. Although she had not seen any combat yet, Suzie knew Thompson could lead the 358th through the worst of battles and emerge victorious.
Yet, even the presence of a strong, courageous leader could not diminish the tension among the men. None of them had seen combat before, and everyone expected them to wade head-first into a dangerous mission capable of changing the tide of the war.
What a ridiculous request. But the Allied leaders must have faith in their troops. They would persevere and complete this mission because the world depended on it.
June 6-7 (D-Day to D+1)
Aboard yet another ship, the 358th left Cardiff and set sail across the English Channel toward Normandy. Five beaches, one of them Utah Beach, were vital targets for Allied forces to land and attack the Nazi strongholds.
Suzie stood on the deck, clutching the railing and staring at the night sky. The water churned beneath the vessel, sending an occasional misty spray into the air. The moon lit up the watery depths and reflected in the foamy splashes the ship surged through.
"We'll be okay," Suzie whispered to herself. "Everything's gonna turn out fine."
Beside her, Richard mumbled an urgent prayer; his eyes fixated on the starry sky. His ghostly pale face shone in the moonlight. Tears pooled in his eyes, making his eyes glow against the darkness.
"Hey," Suzie said. She placed a hand on Richard's shoulder. "We'll be okay." She did not believe it. Unless an angel descended from the heavens and declared the war over, nothing could convince Suzie that this mission would turn out fine. They were sailing straight to hell. Only a fool would do something so insane.
Or people brave enough to conquer their fears and stand up to the enemy, Bucky's voice assured. Trust in your abilities, and you'll be okay.
"What if I die out here?" Richard asked, breaking through Bucky's encouraging words. "I can't do that to Helen; it'll crush her, not to mention my parents and siblings…."
"Hey," Suzie repeated. She placed both hands on his shoulders and turned him toward her. "Don't think such things. 'What-ifs' aren't gonna help us."
Doubt had struck, though. It sank its teeth into the forefront of her mind and fed her endless, gut-wrenching scenarios. Becca would have a fit if she found out what Suzie and the Allied forces had planned. Out of all the missions in the war, why did her first one have to be the worst? Everyone knew the fatality rates would be high, and nobody wanted to end up as a statistic. If they succeeded, history would memorialize it as a beacon of hope in the darkest hours. If they failed, Nazi Germany would crush the world under their mighty boot.
She did not want to fail. No one wanted to fail. And she certainly did not want to die. She couldn't turn back now, not with justice for Ma and Travis at her fingertips. Operation Overlord served as a stepping stone in her journey of revenge. Take out as many Nazis as possible, and maybe one of them could lead her to Hydra.
Selfish, Suzie thought. All you're thinking about is yourself. What would Becca think if she saw you now? Would Bucky be proud of his little sister if he found out what you are doing? Travis and Ma's deaths would mean nothing if you only cared about revenge.
You need to focus and work with your unit, Bucky's voice interceded. This mission is the only thing that matters right now. This is a chance to save countless lives. What's more important: revenge or ending the war? Figure out what you are truly fighting for.
The Nazis are bullies, Steve's voice added. What they've done is horrendous and needs to end now. Hydra can wait. It's time to show Germany what America is all about—freedom.
Freedom from the horrors of war, to return home and live without worrying about what comes next—is it too much to ask? She wants to go home and smell the aroma of Ma's fresh apple pies on the window sill. She wants to taste homemade food, not the stale bread they ate on the ship. She wants to watch Bucky chase Travis and Becca around the yard while Steve sits on the steps drawing. She wants to hear the noise of Brooklyn instead of the barking orders of officers leading them through another drill. She wants to feel Ma's gentle embrace, warming her against the chilly wind whipping through her jacket and tossing cold water into her face.
The war took away all hope for the future. None of this would have happened if not for the war. Everyone would be happy and safe if the Nazis had never decided to invade Poland, slaughter millions of innocent people like genocidal maniacs, and declare war against anyone who voiced disagreement. Suzie wouldn't be standing on this ship, crowded shoulder-to-shoulder with hundreds of nervous soldiers sailing straight for their doom like cattle toward a slaughterhouse, if not for the events at Pearl Harbour and the church in Brooklyn.
The sun started to rise, painting the sky in beautiful shades of pink and orange. Ridiculous how nature could ignore the soldiers' current situation. The world would keep spinning, no matter the outcome of this mission. Nature, oblivious to mankind's horrors, did not care if the Allied forces succeeded or failed this mission. Nature will never care, but the people will. And the future of mankind mattered more than pleasing Mother Nature.
A loud boom sent a shockwave across the water. Men rushed to the railing and pressed Suzie against the metal.
"What happened?!" a man shouted. He pointed toward one of the fleet's ships floating in the distance.
Smoke plumed into the morning air. Too far away to hear anyone shouting, Suzie raised her binoculars and scanned over the ship. Tiny men scurried around on the damaged craft, hurrying to repair or evacuate.
"It must've hit a mine," Vazquez said.
"Or the Nazis found us and attacked," one man said.
"We're sitting ducks out here!" another man cried.
A man beside Suzie leaned over the railing and puked over the railing. It set off a chain reaction of tense nerves overtaking the strongest of wills. Soon the whole upper deck stank of vomit. Many soldiers fell to their knees and sent up quick prayers.
Peaked by morbid curiosity, the soldiers watched the smoldering ship sink into the water. A brief message from the craft, which carried some of the 359th, reported mild injuries and no deaths. The soldiers on the sinking ship would have to improvise because they could only salvage individual equipment.
"It could've been us," Richard whispered to himself, but Suzie heard it.
It could've been them.
The smoke finally dissipated as the day drew on. The 359th announced they assembled three miles inland and would proceed once the other troops arrived. The brass instructed the 358th to await orders, and so they did.
Waiting only made it worse. Invasive thoughts crept up from the shadows and attacked the men like devilish spirits from the deepest pits of hell. Nobody spoke aside from quiet muttering and shaking out nervous jitters. They anchored about twenty miles from shore, where they would wait for orders to attack.
The sun kept rising and rising and rising. And then it sank into the sea, pitching the soldiers into darkness. And still, the soldiers waited, accompanied by the moon and stars. The stars mocked them. How bright and beautiful and far away the stars were from all this madness. They could watch from the heavens without fearing harm or worrying about how the mission would end.
The stars watched, and the soldiers waited—the calm before the storm.
June 8 (D+2)
Close behind the marooned 359th, the 358th and the remaining regiments of the 90th Division finally arrived at Utah Beach. The men boarded their assigned landing crafts and sailed to the shore. Glad to be together, Suzie and Richard piled into a landing craft with fifty other soldiers. It packed them in close, shoulder-to-shoulder.
More nervous puking and praying ensued. Suzie's fingers twitched against the rifle she held close to her chest. The outline of the beach drew closer and closer. Large metal contraptions, nicknamed hedgehogs, jutted from the sand. Their training sessions had gone over the Germans' defenses. The Germans must have anticipated the Allies to land at high tide because they designed the metal spikes to rip through a landing craft's hull. Some were also believed to conceal explosives.
Unfortunately for the Germans, the Allies landed at low tide. The exposed metal hedgehogs allowed the soldiers to debark at noon without the spikes' interference. A single bit of misinformation favored the Allied forces. The element of surprise would serve as their best weapon.
At a word from Miguel Vazquez, the unit readied themselves to jump ashore. Suzie closed her eyes and muttered a quick prayer. Help us win this. Keep Richard safe, and if it's Your will, Lord, allow me to serve You on this mission.
The metal ramp groaned as it lowered. Suzie shivered and clutched her rifle closer, her finger tracing the edge of the trigger. Richard caught her eye and gave her a wavery smile. Even though the previous troops cleared the way two days earlier, everyone remained alert. No one could tell what the beach had in store for them or if the Germans had reoccupied the area.
"May God protect us," Richard muttered.
"Stay safe out there," Suzie replied. She couldn't stop her voice from shaking. A knot tightened in her stomach, and she suppressed the urge to vomit.
The metal ramp finally splashed into the shallow water with a dull thud, and Suzie took a deep breath, which proved to be a mistake—the air stank of rotting corpses and smoke from mortar shells. The coppery undertones of spilled blood also mingled with the stench of death.
The soldiers, wielding their weapons, jumped from the vessel. Other landing crafts reached the shore and followed suit.
Suzie's boots hit the sandy ground. Richard joined her, and together they marched across the beach. Countless machine gun bunkers stood abandoned atop the hill. On the first day of Operation Overlord, the Allied forces took out most of the enemy defenses. Although safe from enemy fire, everyone remained tense and clutched their rifles close in case of a sudden attack.
The beach offered a view of fresh and two-day-old corpses littering the sand. Metal shrapnel from wrecked boats, tangled barbed wire, and gaping shell holes filled with muddy pools of water covered the rest of the beach. Groups of Allied soldiers from other units rushed around and cleaned up the mess of the fight. They removed explosive material from the hedgehogs and pulled the dead from the water. Rows and rows of dead bodies stretched across the beach while nurses patched up the injured by trucks serving as makeshift infirmaries.
Suzie had never stepped foot on a beach before and always wanted to visit one. Now, she could hardly walk without her knees giving out from lightheadedness and her roiling stomach. The carnage would have made Suzie turn around and hide on the landing craft if not for Richard marching next to her. She couldn't abandon him, especially not after everything he had done for her. In silence, the troops navigated across the bustling beach, ignoring the faces in fear of spotting someone they knew.
Richard gave Suzie a grim look and hugged his rifle closer to his chest. Suzie frowned and sent up a quick prayer of gratitude that she did not participate in the initial attack. She could have been one of those men lying on the sand. The brass would send a letter home about her death, and it would devastate Becca.
Nobody said a word as the troops marched across the beach. Their boots churned up sand as the men climbed atop the ridge overlooking the beach. A haze fogged their minds, turning their bodies and hearts numb against the death and destruction on the beach. The smell of rotting bodies permeated the land, darkening the atmosphere of the once-beautiful beach.
Soon, the troops met with the other Allied soldiers, and they trekked past the bunkers and further inland. The rest of the day remained tense and solemn the further the men walked. Everyone expected an attack, but it never happened. They did not clear the way; they were just reinforcements.
The sun sank under the horizon when the 358th and its sister regiment, the 357th, reached their designation at Audouville-la-Hubert, France. At midnight, the troops could finally rest and go over their plans.
From here, everything would only get worse.
June 10 (D+4)
The brass issued orders to attack and seize the high ground near the Merderet and Douve rivers. Simple enough, right?
Nothing could be more wrong.
The Germans had been preparing for an attack for four years and had perfected their defenses. They had essentially built a wall of steel and artillery to counter the Allied forces. The French landscape gave the Germans an advantage. The bocage hedgerows once prevented erosion for farmers. Now it became a slaughterhouse for soldiers. An outline of trees and bushes provided cover for the Germans and left the Allied forces in an open, unprotected field. And it went on for miles. If the Allied forces managed to push the Germans further inland, the Germans could fall back and take cover in another hedgerow, turning the fight into a slow, violent game of chase.
Even more, the Germans worked in rows of three. The first row boasted machine guns capable of picking off the Allied soldiers in swarms. The second row fired mortars which burst without warning and threw deadly shrapnel at fatal speeds. If the Allies overtook those two rows, the Germans could still rely on an assembly of artillery and anti-aircraft and tank guns.
The Allies walked straight into a well-crafted trap.
The 90th Division acted upon the orders before the sun rose. When the 358th arrived at their designated location, all hell broke loose.
A bullet whistled through the air and struck the man standing ahead of Suzie. He crumpled to the ground, clutching the blood seeping through his jacket.
Suzie gasped and stumbled backward as more bullets whistled through the air and struck those in front. The soldiers roughly jostled her around as they rushed forward across the field.
The man in front of her lay on the ground, his eyes wide and unfocused. The blood, the clothes, the shocked expression—it all mirrored Travis and the bodies littering the floor of the church. He died in front of her—again. It couldn't be happening again.
It couldn't. It couldn't!
Travis, dead...
"Mama!" Suzie cried and dropped to her knees. "Mama, help!"
Suzie brought a shaking hand to her mouth and crawled behind a pew. Sobs wracked her body as she curled into a ball and stared at Travis's dead body stretched out in front of her. Her brother, murdered, it couldn't, he couldn't…
She couldn't look away. Those brown eyes stared straight into her soul. Blood pooled from the wound, soaking into the ground.
"Travis…" Suzie cried. "Why? Why him?!"
She clutched Becca close to her chest, shielding her sister's eyes from the grisly sight. Becca's form felt cold, thin, and wrong, but Suzie held on and stared unfocused through the tears stinging her eyes at her dead brother.
Howling in anguish, Suzie wheezed through rapid gasps of air. Blood pounded through her veins, more blood, Travis's blood. His life force, his soul, all of it, gone. Her brother, dead, right in front of her. She could've helped. She should've helped. But she remained curled up, frozen, watching her brother slip away.
Please. No. No!
NO!
/\/\/\/\/\
Bullets whizzed by, striking unfortunate men standing at the front of the unit. Despite the onslaught of enemy fire, the soldiers pressed forward and took out as many enemy soldiers as possible. The dead piled up, tripping some and creating a relatively safe cover for others.
Richard hung back from the unit, not out of cowardice, although his father would think so if Richard ever told him. Men always power through no matter how hard something is, his father always said. As my oldest son, you're supposed to protect your family.
Well, Riley Barnes was family. And hell would freeze over before Richard left his brother-in-arms to die alone and unable to fight.
When the first bullet hit, Richard watched the soldier fall to the ground and heard Riley gasp beside him. Riley's eyes went wide, and he dropped to his knees. At first, Richard worried a bullet had struck his friend, but Riley only curled up into a ball and pressed himself against a tree trunk. Grief-stricken sobs rocked from Riley's trembling body. His eyes focused on the first dead man, and he clutched his rifle like shielding a child.
Richard had heard of shell shock and battle fatigue and the strange things men do in the middle of a battle. His grandfather, who fought in the Civil War, always had terrible, panicked fits from thunder and fireworks. Riley had told Richard about an attack in Brooklyn that killed several people, including Riley's brother and mother. Seeing Riley react like Grandpa Miller pierced Richard's heart and sent him into "older brother protective mode."
Keeping low against the bullets flying through the air, Richard crawled over to Riley and pressed him against the ground. The dead bodies allowed some cover, so Richard slung his rifle across his shoulder and turned Riley's head away from the bloody man.
"Riley," Richard said above the racket of the fight. "Riley, are you okay?"
Riley's chest heaved in rapid succession. Tears streamed down his face, and his dilated pupils blew the steel-blue to the edges of his irises. Even with Richard hugging him, Riley shook from head to toe and remained stiff. His lips moved as if speaking, but no words came out.
Richard pried Riley's rifle from his hands and slung it on his shoulder to join his own gun. A mortar shell exploded nearby, flinging up dirt and metal. A thick shard of metal wedged itself into the trunk a foot above Riley's head. Richard flinched and waved a hand in front of Riley's eyes. He did not react.
More bullets sang their death song, picking off unfortunate targets. Explosions boomed in the distance, mingling with terrified shouts of injured soldiers. They couldn't stay here. The tree, thin and splintering from the force of the shrapnel, provided a temporary cover at best.
Summoning strength he did not know he had, Richard heaved Riley over to a nearby abandoned, damaged German bunker, safe from direct attacks. A bullet whizzed by Richard's ear, causing him to flinch again and drop to the ground behind the bunker.
He managed to crawl on shaking limbs before leaning Riley against the single remaining wall of the bunker. After making sure they were safe, Richard knelt in front of Riley, not caring about a swarm of flies buzzing above the dead soldier lying face down a few feet away.
"Riley, it's okay; I'm here," Richard said. "I'm here."
Unable to receive a response, Richard wrapped Riley in a gentle embrace and placed a reassuring hand on the back of Riley's head. Richard gently rested Riley's forehead against his shoulder and knelt there for a while. Copying what Richard's mother did whenever he got scared as a child, Richard ran his fingers through Riley's short hair.
When Riley's panicked wheezing did not slow, Richard also started humming a random melody. Minutes passed while bullets flew overhead and explosions shook the ground. Shrapnel from a mortar shell cracked against the wall, sending a few chunks of concrete tumbling down into a dusty pile next to the duo. Richard increased the volume of his humming, trying to drown out the battle. It must have worked because Riley's breathing slowed, and Richard stopped humming and pulled away from the embrace. He placed his hands on Riley's shoulders and caught his friend's eyes.
"Hey, Riley, it's okay," Richard said. Riley's eyes finally focused on Richard's, the steel-blue orbs shiny with pools of tears streaming down his face.
"I can't…." Riley muttered. His body still shook under Richard's hands.
"It's okay," Richard repeated.
"I can't do this. I can't." Riley's head dropped into his hands, and he drew his knees up to his chest.
"I can't imagine what you're going through right now, but we're in a middle of a very important mission. We need to get as many soldiers over as many ridges as possible. If we pull this off, it could end the war, and you can go home to your sister."
"I can't," Riley repeated into his knees. "I never should've come here; I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," Richard assured. "You're one of the bravest people I know. I've seen you take on Garcia and Lemay several times. Your shooting skills are impressive, and every time you get knocked down, you get back up. Question is, are you gonna get back up again?"
Riley finally raised his head, his helmet perched crookedly on his head. Still protected by the wall, Richard sat on his heels and extended a hand to his friend.
"Can you do this for me? For Becca? For America?"
Riley chewed on his bottom lip hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and nodded.
"What now?" Riley asked, his voice still uncertain and shaky.
"There are several machine guns and artillery in those hedges," Richard said, peering around the corner of the wall. He felt Riley hesitantly join his side. "Those are our biggest concerns right now. If we stay here, we could take them out from a distance and give the others a better chance at overtaking the ridge."
"We need a better angle," Riley said, sounding a little more sure of himself. "They can't see us well right here, but we can't get a good shot from this angle." Riley pointed toward a tree standing a few feet away on their right. "If we use that as cover, we can get a clean shot."
Richard turned to stare at his friend. Riley's face set into a new determined expression. Panic still showed in his eyes and in the way Riley's leg bounced and his finger traced the trigger on his gun.
"Are you up for this?" Richard asked. He didn't want Riley to leave the cover of the concrete wall, possibly fall into another round of panic, and get shot.
Riley offered a thin, forced smile. "Are you?"
A corner of Richard's lips tugged upward. There's the Riley I know. Riley sounded a little more like himself; hopefully, he could stay that way, at least until they crossed the Merderet River.
"Stay close and stay alert," Richard said.
The duo took off running from the safety of the damaged bunker and sprinted to the tree. Shell holes dotting the field proved harder to navigate. Richard tripped over a severed leg of some soldier and almost fell face-first into a shrapnel-filled hole. Riley's quick reflexes caught him by his backpack strap and yanked him away. Riley shoved him behind the tree seconds before a bullet whistled right where Richard's face had been.
"Thanks," Richard gasped.
"Now we're even," Riley replied and pressed his back against the thick tree trunk. A few more bullets flew by. Some rained splinters of wood, leaves, and an unfortunate bird onto the duo. Others landed in the dirt.
Richard knelt and rested his rifle between low-hanging branches. An explosion shook the ground and sprayed more dirt into the air.
"Now or never," Riley said and copied Richard's firing position against another nearby tree. "You take the left one; I'll take the right."
Richard nodded and aimed at the closest machine gun. Through his rifle scope, he aimed the barrel where a German soldier stood firing a machine gun.
He lined up the rifle at the German soldier's head, pulled the trigger, and watched the German man crumple out of sight. Richard dropped his rifle and fell forward onto his hands, and he promptly vomited.
He killed someone—an enemy soldier, no less, but he still had just shot another human being. Through his heaving, he heard Riley fire off a shot and also dry-heave.
He had decided to become a lawyer to bring justice to the voiceless. Now he ended lives, perhaps not innocent ones, but still another living, breathing person. At least he spared his little brother from witnessing the destruction of war. If only the war would end so Richard could go home and not have to shoot more people.
A knot tightened in his stomach, threatening to expel the rest of his meager breakfast. He could hardly hear himself think over the roaring engines of the planes soaring through the sky. Mortars and machine guns fired shells of death against the cries of injured and dying soldiers. It all circled inside his head—a whirlpool of sounds shaking the earth.
The symphony of war rang through every fiber of Richard's being. He hated it. But he couldn't leave—couldn't bring himself to leave Riley behind in this hellhole. Instead, he and Riley, and the rest of the Allied troops trekked their way across the ridges of France.
Zigzagging behind different trees, Richard and Riley picked off Germans from a distance. Planes rained fire upon the German defenses from the air. Other Allied soldiers engaged in deadly hand-to-hand combat, but because Riley stayed hidden from the fight, so did Richard. The two worked in tandem, shooting German soldiers who either manned machine guns or got too close to an ally.
The slow going eventually paid off as the 358th finally crossed the Merderet River. The Germans occupied a chateau, a small castle-like home, which the 358th overtook after severe resistance.
The 358th sent a platoon in an attempt to capture Eitenville, a town near the river. A strong German counter-attack forced the platoon to withdraw from the town, so Allied commanding officers ordered everyone to resume the attack in the morning.
Glad to finally earn a break, Richard numbly followed the other soldiers in setting up a makeshift camp and securing a safe area to rest. He kept an eye on Riley, who appeared to be doing somewhat better.
"How are you feeling?" Richard asked, his 'overprotective-older-brother' urge switching into 'comfort-and-check-for-any-injuries' mode.
"Like shit," Riley muttered. He yanked his backpack off and dropped heavily to the ground, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against a tree. "What was I thinking, coming here and…." His voice trailed off, and he stared up at the moon. Few clouds covered the sky, offering a perfect view of the stars.
Although he wanted nothing more than to hide somewhere and contemplate his entire existence after having killed too many men to count in the last twenty-four hours, Richard sat next to Riley. "I—"
"Don't," Riley cut him off. "Just don't."
"Do what?" Richard asked, shocked at Riley's reaction. "I hardly said anything."
"Don't try to tell me everything's gonna be okay. It's not. I just killed people." In the moonlight, Riley's eyes shone with tears. Richard watched as one rolled down Riley's cheek before his friend looked away.
"So did I."
"Then you'll understand why I don't want people telling me what to feel. It's not gonna change anything. Those people are dead because of us."
A pause filled the gap between them. A blanket of guilt covered the camp as the soldiers hunkered down for the night. In the distance, a few planes droned on, keeping watch like a metal guardian angel. A few muffled gunshots sent a collective flinch throughout the camp.
"Look," Richard eventually said. "All I'm gonna say is that it's either us or them. The Nazis are bullies, and they'll stop at nothing to inflict pain on innocent people. Look at what they already did to Poland and France. We're just fighting bullies."
Riley scoffed. "There's a difference between fighting bullies on a playground and shooting people in a war."
"I know. But it doesn't change why we're here. We're here to fight the good fight and win this war to make a better, peaceful future," Richard said, unsure who he tried to convince more—Riley or himself.
"You sound like my brother."
"I'm just trying to help."
"Well, I don't want it."
Another pause stifled the conversation while Richard contemplated if he wanted to test Riley's limits or not.
He decided to push his luck.
"Can I ask what happened earlier? When we first started fighting?" Richard asked.
He thought it sounded gentle, but Riley turned his head away, and his arms tightened across his chest. "I don't wanna talk about it." Riley looked and sounded like a pouting child, and in other circumstances, Richard would have found it amusing.
"Maybe talking about it will help."
Rounding on Richard, Riley's eyes flashed in the dim light. He started shaking again. "I froze like a freaking coward, okay?! Leave me alone!"
Relenting, Richard fell silent though he remained at Riley's side in case his friend needed anything. Riley did not voice any complaints, so the two sat against the tree in the company of the moon and stars and the injured and dying.
Don't think about it, Richard thought. Dwelling on the past won't fix anything.
Still, the nagging never ceased like a tiny devil standing on his shoulder. At this rate, he might end up like Grandpa Miller—going into panicked fits at loud sounds and ranting about how the younger generation would never understand true hardship.
Well, Grandpa, look at me now. I've done the same thing as you, and I understand what you felt. Help me to get through this. Tell me how to help Riley.
Riley's breathing evened out against the shared tree as he fell asleep. Glancing over at his friend, a lump formed in Richard's throat. He always wanted another little brother, and now, sitting next to Riley, they had been brothers all along. Something about Riley made Richard want to do everything he could to help his friend seek justice for what had happened in the church in Brooklyn. He did not know all the details because Riley only gave him the bare minimum and refused to talk about it after the one time he told Richard why he had joined the army.
Still, Richard knew that his friend would stop at nothing to right the wrongs. They all had a reason for joining the military, and they could all agree upon winning the fwar and ushering in peace.
It hurt to see his friend torn apart and afraid. For the little time they had known each other, Riley always appeared rather closed-off and angry. Now, Riley completely shut down, like powering off a car. The car once raced along the streets and exuded confidence in the owner. Now, it sat defeated in a mechanic shop, out of hope and any ounce of confidence. If only the car allowed a mechanic to fix the broken parts.
Even the mechanic needed assistance from someone more qualified—a doctor, maybe. Richard wished he knew what to do. He could try his hardest to protect Riley from the war, like a good older brother. It's what older brothers should always do—should always defend and care for the younger children as a rock of fortitude and strength. If nothing else, he could just be an older brother to Riley.
They needed each other. Riley needed someone to guide him along the right path. And Richard needed Riley to keep him grounded and focused on what mattered in life. Even while terrified, Riley could spot danger quicker and make split-second decisions.
They worked better together, like yin and yang. Riley tended to see the darkness in the world while Richard tended to see the light—too wary versus too trusting, too headstrong and grounded versus too temperate and carefree.
Without each other, neither of them would have made it this far. And without hope and reasoning, neither of them would survive the upcoming months.
I thought about including the entire month of June 1944 in this chapter but I decided it would be too long and a little repetitive. If it wasn't clear, Suzie had a panic attack and thought she was back in the church. I have not personally experienced a panic attack nor have I seen one in person, but I tried my best to depict one. (Suzie's turning out just like her older brother. Oops.) I am also not an expert or a historian. I tried to make the events of D-Day and the battles of the 358th accurate as possible. Creative liberties are (obviously) taken because this is set in a world where super soldiers and a giant green rage monster exist. :)
Feel free to leave any questions, comments, or concerns. I hope to get back to updating more often after this doozy of a chapter.