Whelp, this story is officially over 300 pages in my Google Docs. :D
Chapter Thirty-One: The Battle of the Bulge
Thanksgiving came and went. The food, however, tasted much better than any prior meals the army served. Despite the delicious food, the entire camp remained quiet and on-guard. Celebrations remained at a minimum due to their location near the German border. Nazi patrols, if they knew of the 90th's whereabouts, would certainly use the holiday as a distraction to their advantage. While everyone ate, the Nazis might attack and slaughter them all without warning.
Thankfully, nothing happened and the 90th ate undisturbed. Worry nagged at everyone, so they ate their Thanksgiving meal in an anxious state, ready to spring into action at any moment. Like the Israelites preparing to escape Egypt, the soldiers ate in haste and kept their guns close at hand.
Unlike the enslaved Israelites, the 90th plowed their way into enemy territory and captured several prisoners. In the wake of the Moselle River battle, crossing the German border proved rather unremarkable. The German officer they had captured claimed the Germans thought the area impossible to attack. The attack caught them off guard.
Plus one for the Allies.
Things were looking up.
The 90th's persistent attitude scored them several consecutive wins against the Germans. For the first time in weeks, the 90th hunkered down in townhouses in a small German town instead of tents scattered around in a clearing. The houses provided better protection from the escalating winter weather and also from stray German bullets. Not to mention, the cellars in the houses each had a wealthy supply of canned fruit and meat, eggs, and other delicious food the soldiers accepted joyously. K-rations went untouched for quite some time after the fantastic discovery of the well-stocked houses.
Suzie's twentieth birthday also came and went. December 9th remained unremarkable except for Steve gifting her a new pair of boots and Bucky finally allowing her to finish reading The Hobbit. Richard and Alice worked together to scrounge up enough ingredients to bake a small cake, which the trio shared in a hidden area behind the infirmary. The cake lacked frosting and tasted like dried sawdust, but having the chance to sit and spend time with her friends meant more to her than any cake ever could.
Not one to be outdone, Bucky—how he ever managed something so absurd went beyond her—procured a small piece of gingerbread. It tasted nothing like Ma's yearly tradition of baking gingerbread for Suzie's birthday, but the effort tasted sweeter than the actual food. Bucky looked extremely proud of himself for acquiring such a rare food item all the way out on the frontlines. His ties to Captain America and Howard Stark probably helped him find ginger-freaking-bread, but Suzie didn't ask how he found the treat.
The agreeability of the November holiday and her December birthday didn't last. After the battle at the Moselle River, the 90th never ceased in their efforts to surge forward on their goal to eliminate German presence in Luxembourg and Belgium. They never stayed in one place long, constantly on the move, and always on high alert for enemy activity. Battles became commonplace, and the sounds of the injured and distant firefights overpowered the noise of typical army life.
Against all odds, the 90th continued to take prisoners and plow their way into German-controlled territory. In the fifteen days it took to cross the Saar River, twenty-one square city blocks fell into the control of the Allies, and the 358th alone captured twenty-five German pillboxes, three tanks, and two hundred and eighty-six prisoners.
After the Saar River crossing, the 90th, separated into smaller regiments, set up a defensive position, and held it as Christmas arrived. A section of the 90th returned to Paris while other divisions settled into towns in both France and Germany and along the Saar River.
The twenty-third of December became recognized as a notable day in their entire time on the frontlines. For the first time in almost nine months, they had ice cream.
Despite the cold, everyone relished the rare treat. All worries went away as the troops devoured the ice cream like a pack of hungry wolves long starved for some sweet delicacy.
Alice, for one, made her delight rather vocal.
In their new, hidden spot once again near the infirmary, Richard, Suzie, and Alice sat in a circle and slowly ate their ice cream. The snow fell around them like powdered sugar dusting the ground, yet they ignored the frigid temperature and ate unbothered. Eyes closed and smiles plastered on their faces, they savored the vanilla delight on their tongues and hummed cheerfully. In any other circumstance, Alice's noises would have sounded inappropriate.
"I know it tastes really good, but it's just ice cream," Richard complained, breaking the silence.
Normally, she would have shot him an eye roll or a pointed, sarcastic remark. Instead, Alice only opened her eyes and gave Richard a soft smile. "It's heaven."
"I agree," Suzie added, not clarifying who she meant. The sounds Alice made did bother her, but the luxury of ice cream scrubbed away any irritation. Who cares if Alice voiced her contentment when the vanilla ice cream deserved complete and undivided attention?
Alice ignored Suzie's comment. A dreamy expression glazed over Alice's face as she stared at the bowl of ice cream in her hands.
"The only other thing that can make me feel this good is your brother," Alice remarked as a smirk tugged at her red lips.
"Ewww!" Suzie exclaimed as her face twisted in disgust. Forget everything she said earlier—Alice almost ruined her appetite.
"It's true," Alice added, turning to face Suzie. She leaned in closer and whispered, "He's got a nice rifle. And he knows how to use it."
Suzie gagged. She heard Richard fake a cough in discomfort. "I didn't need to know that."
"Hey." Alice held up her hands in defense while clutching her bowl of ice cream. "You're the one who had me seduce your brother."
"It's been months!" Suzie defended. Bucky never mentioned Alice. Granted, Suzie never asked because she didn't want to know about her brother's private activities.
Alice wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. "Has it? Who says it only happened once?"
Suzie's mouth dropped open in disgust, and she sputtered as Alice bit her bottom lip and smiled into her bowl.
"You'd better not get pregnant," Richard said.
"Oh, we're careful." Alice scooped a bit of ice cream onto her spoon and slowly licked it off. She rolled her head to the side and gave Suzie a wink. "You don't wanna be an aunt, Suzannah?"
Words took a while to form on Suzie's lips. She finally coughed out, "I don't want Bucky to get kicked out of the army for getting a nurse pregnant. There are rules, you know."
"Oh, puh-lease. He's with Captain America. He's untouchable." She paused and whispered to herself, but Suzie caught it. "But also, very touchable."
Suzie shot Richard a disgusted and shocked look over the top of Alice's neat, blonde updo. Richard shrugged in sympathy and returned to eating his ice cream.
Despite the images of Alice and Bucky's…expacades...flashing unwarranted through Suzie's head, Suzie finished the rest of her ice cream and promptly went in search of something to take her mind off the uncomfortable revelation. He had always been a womanizer, but he never approached any of Suzie's friends—well, the one friend she had in the middle whom she only interacted with at school. She never liked Bucky's adventurous attitude towards women, but now that he and Alice were apparently a "thing", Suzie had no idea how to react other than complete disgust at Alice's rather open attitude toward the whole scenario.
Did Bucky know about Alice's and Suzie's friendship? Did he know that Suzie had been the one to set them up in the first place by initially using Alice as a distraction? Would he even care if he found out?
Probably not. Most of the men here were starved of a woman's affection, Bucky included.
Still, she didn't want to know the details of her brother's shenanigans. Some things should stay private.
Like Captain America's whereabouts.
Hydra must have gotten word about Captain America's estimated location and descended upon an unsuspecting unit. They slaughtered the whole unit and would have gotten away if word hadn't reached Steve. He assembled his team in record time and brought down retribution tenfold by wiping any Hdra presence anywhere within a hundred miles of the 90th in every direction off the map.
After the sudden attack on the unit, Bucky resumed his persistent hovering over Suzie. He had kept his word and tried his best to leave her alone, but the attack on the unit sent him over the edge. He monitored her every step, kept her close to him at all times, and even talked to her SO to let her move her cot near his and Steve's. Instead of listening to Richard talk in his sleep, Suzie endured Bucky's snoring, tossing and turning all night, or muttering worrisome nonsense every night.
At least Richard's night-time talking was funny, not the troubling ramblings Bucky mumbled while thrashing about under his blankets. At first, she found it annoying.
Then, she started paying closer attention.
Once, when Bucky's movement kept her up all night, Suzie watched him freeze and stare at a spot above him. She swore she heard him whimper like a scared puppy before jolting awake and glancing around the room to make sure nobody saw him. She pretended to be asleep, but even after he rolled onto his side and wrapped the blankets tighter around him, she couldn't fall asleep again. Never in her entire twenty years of living had she ever seen her brother seem so scared. It looked like he had seen a ghost—a ghost that haunted him almost every night.
The things he would mutter at night troubled her even more than the terrified expression he had whenever he froze in place. Pleas of "stop," "please", and "no" escaped his trembling lips or he would make muffled, choked sounds like a scared, gagged prisoner. His violent trembling caused the wooden legs of his cot to scrape against the floor and jolt Suzie awake every time. For some reason, whenever he shook, his hands always remained at his sides, as if invisible chains stepped him to his bed.
Suzie mentioned it to Steve, who admitted he had known for quite some time and said Bucky refused to talk it about. When she asked Bucky about it, he brushed it off and told her to never bring it up again.
Figures.
If she could count on one thing, her brother's stubbornness to get any help or talk about real issues like his constant nightmares would always stay the same.
Still, time passed, and Bucky continued to suffer at night.
Christmas and New Year's were rather mediocre. As the fresh beginnings of 1945 rolled into existence, nothing changed. Soldiers died out on the field or in the infirmaries. The Germans fought against the 90th and refused to surrender even when the Allies took prisoners and destroyed German equipment.
On January 6th, the troops moved to Luxembourg. Gaining control of the small country smack-dap between France, Germany, and Belgium would drive the Germans away. The Allies had liberated most of the country in September 1944, so aside from the cold and snow, the drive to Lannen, Luxembourg passed in relative safety. A large swath of land extended from Germany into Luxembourg and Belgium—the object of the Allies's plans to completely liberate. The Germans held onto the region, and removing their stronghold would take extreme tactical effort and manpower.
More movement across Luxembourg ensued over the next few days. Heavy artillery tormented the troops and slowed their process as they trekked through Luxembourg and rolled past the Belgium border. From there, Suzie's division, the 358th, lept into action. Unfortunately, their map proved inaccurate and the attack landed them in a dense wooded area which hindered their movements.
Using the woods to their advantage, the Germans returned fire by blasting artillery, tanks, and mortars onto the soldiers. Casualties racked up into the fifties from trees bursting under mortar blasts. The large branches crushed unsuspecting men and caused more injuries and deaths than bullets or metal shrapnel.
One large branch would have crushed Suzie if Bucky hadn't noticed and pushed her out of the way. Naturally, he gloated about it and gave her a mini lecture about being aware of her surroundings. She responded by shooting a German soldier who had snuck up on them and would have shot Bucky in the back if Suzie hadn't shot the man first. Richard then yelled at them to 'Quit arguing and get back to fighting, you dolts.'
Even when the woods fought against them, the 358th pulled through and captured over eighty German prisoners.
But Mother Nature still fought against them. Cases of illness swelled from the cold and snowy weather. Trench foot plagued the soldiers, causing almost as many problems as enemy resistance. During the consecutive battles, they had no time to remove wet socks, which, in turn, produced the perfect opportunity for trench foot to fester. Thankfully, the boots Steve had given her for her birthday saved Suzie from the worst of the suffering.
Regardless of her nice boots, not even the warm articles of clothing Bucky had procured for her weeks earlier saved her from winter illnesses.
Brief excursions in the bitter weather to capture railroad tracks and neighboring towns took a toll on the soldiers. Snow fell continuously, making any movement difficult. The snow accumulated into knee-deep and thick drifts of frigid powder. Marching became a strenuous task, and Suzie, who stood a little shorter than the average soldier, waded through thigh-hip snow while holding her rifle aloft to avoid any water from entering the gun. The backpack weighed her down, and the dampness seeped into her new boots.
Stuck in a constant state of shivering, they dug deep foxholes and huddled in duos at night. Richard's lanky form crowded the foxhole, but their closeness allowed some warmth to generate between them. Snow still fell between the cracks in the branches and leaves covering the top of each foxhole. Standing in the morning after sitting in a cramped position all night strained their frozen muscles and left everyone sore.
Mud from hundreds of trampling feet and snow blowing from the wind left blankets frozen stiff and unable to wrap around anyone's shoulders. Richard had the bright idea to use the blanket as a cover for their foxhole, which provided some decent protection from snow and icy wind.
Due to the increasing difficulty of transporting supplies, hot food became rare, leaving many men to suffer from dysentery. The lack of proper nutrition, damp clothing, and frigid weather offered the best—or worst—opportunities for trench foot, frostbite, and pneumonia to develop. Fingers and toes froze from exposure, faces turned red from the biting wind, and the whirling snow stung their eyes. Unable to fight, the brass sent dozens of sick men to receive treatment in the relative safety of Allied camps in France. The 358th's ranks dwindled every day while the winter season continued to sap the strength and morale of the men.
Richard suffered a mild case of trench foot early in January and recently returned from treatment. He moved slower than normal and dragged his feet whenever they needed to move. Smiles were few and far between, and his jokes fell silent from the effort of pushing past the edge of exhaustion.
They thought everything would return to normal, but toward the middle of January, the true impact of the spreading troubles finally hit Suzie.
It started with a mild ache in her lungs. At first, Suzie assumed the cold air aggravated her breathing and thought nothing of the soreness. So, she kept it to herself and moved on.
Then, it developed into a cough. And it wouldn't go away.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Richard asked one night while they sat in a snowy foxhole. Suzie's blanket covered the opening and blocked most of the wind, but she couldn't stop shivering.
She couldn't stop coughing, either.
"I'm fine," Suzie choked out between coughing fits.
"You should go see a nurse," Richard said.
"And leave you here alone?" Suzie joked. The humor fell flat. "I don't think so." She gave him a weak smile before descending into a hacking fit. Air wheezed out of her stuffy nose, and a shiver convulsed down her spine.
"You're sick," Richard pointed out. He offered his canteen but she pushed it towards him.
"I have my own water," Suzie muttered. Too exhausted to hold her head up on its own volition, she rested her head against the hard-packed snow acting as a wall of the foxhole. A cramp contracted in her calf, and she massaged it the best she could with frozen fingers.
"Don't be stubborn." Richard moved Suzie's hand away from her calf and worked out the knot in her leg. His stronger, unfrozen fingers eased the pain from her sore muscles and gently worked the blood back into circulation.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Richard crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the frozen wall. "Pneumonia's no joke, Suzie."
"Who says I've got pneumonia? I usually get sick around this time of year. Common cold and whatnot." She waved a weak hand in the air to brush away the worry on Richard's face.
It didn't work. Instead, his frown deepened and he sighed.
"Don't make me tell your brother."
Suzie sat up, her mouth dropping open. "You wouldn't."
"I would," Richard said. "If you get worse and you don't get medical help, I will tell your brother. I'm sure he's already aware of your condition."
"What condition?" Suzie feigned ignorance.
Richard rolled his eyes. "You sound like a dying seal." When Suzie snorted, he added, "You're shivering, too. You probably have a fever, if you'd let me…" He reached forward to try to press the back of his hand on Suzie's forehead, but she slapped his hand away.
"I'm fine, just need to rest for a bit, stay warm."
Richard spread his arms wide and looked around their tiny foxhole. "When? In case you've forgotten, we're at war. We're lucky we even get to sleep at night, let alone sit long enough to rest properly. Our food sucks, it's cold as heck out here, and there's barely any of us left who hasn't suffered some kind of illness. Your best chance is going back to France. Best case scenario, you'll stay there for a few days before joining us again. And if you're really sick, then you should stay out of all this weather and fighting. 'Sides, you'll get a warm bed and decent food. Who wouldn't want that?"
Suzie stared at Richard long enough for them to hear the rumbling of a plane flying miles away. Honestly, a warm bed sounded much better than curling into a frozen foxhole every night, but she couldn't leave, not while Richard, Bucky, and Steve were still out here fighting. She couldn't leave them, even though they could handle themselves. Steve alone offered more strength and manpower than ten men combined.
They still needed all the help they could get. Who cares if the snow blurred the view from the scope on her rifle or her hands shook on the trigger or the coughing distracted her from picking off targets or the constant shivering or…
"I'm fine," Suzie muttered. To end the conversation, she tucked her hands under her armpits, curled into a ball, and tried to go to sleep.
Richard didn't push. He unwrapped his stiff and muddy blanket from where it covered their rifles and tucked it around Suzie's shoulders.
Although he left her alone for the night and didn't mention their conversation again in the morning, he did keep a closer eye on her during the next few days. Two pairs of eyes—Bucky's and Richard's—on her made it difficult to hide her pain.
Breathing antagonized her lungs and every cough rubbed sandpaper along the insides of her windpipe. Trudging through the snow drifts while the ice restricted the blood flow to her legs making everything from the waist down practically numb. Aside from the pricks of invisible pins jabbing into her muscles, she could hardly feel her legs lift during each excruciating step.
She started coughing up blood.
Little droplets flew from her lips and speckled the shimmery white snow on the ground alongside the barrel of her rifle. She hid the small dots of red by swiping snow on top of the evidence of her worsening condition. The distraction of heavy resistance from the Germans made it easier for Suzie to hide the spots of blood. Richard didn't notice the change and never reported anything to Bucky.
It only got worse from there.
The coughing fits doubled in number, and the specks of blood grew into little pools about the size of a nickel. Although mud, shrapnel, and other soldiers' blood soiled the once-pristine snow, Suzie's gumdrops of blood couldn't stay hidden forever.
At night, she kept her back towards Richard and hid any blood she coughed up under the snow or wiped her sleeve across her mouth. She hadn't had a fresh change of clothes in weeks so the stains no longer bothered her.
It continued for several days. The lackluster movies the soldiers saw at Bastogne, Belgium couldn't distract her from the searing pain in her chest. Jelly filled her lungs and she could scarcely move before descending into a flurry of coughs. The sandpaper in her throat forced her to stop talking, resorting instead to brief nods to get her message across.
The next day brought everything to a head. After traveling an hour—if not for the snow and horrible road conditions, it would have taken only thirty minutes—by truck across the Belgium border to Wilwerdange, Luxembourg, the 358th launched an attack on the German defenses occupying a neighboring town. The attack only took about ten and a half hours, but for Suzie, it felt like days.
Too distracted to pay attention, Suzie tripped over a hunk of rubble and collapsed onto her hands and knees in the middle of the street. Richard instantly dashed over to pull her to cover moments before a mortar shell landed. The blast rocked the ground and flung muddy snow into the air. The spray showered down upon them, but Richard protected Suzie from the worst of it.
"Are you okay?" Richard shouted above the sounds of the firefight.
Suzie responded by hacking up a mouthful of blood. Her knees quivered underneath her weight, and she dropped to her hands again.
"Suzie?" Richard asked. He fired off a few retaliatory shots to subdue the enemy barrage. Satisfied they were safe, he knelt by her side and finally noticed the blood dotting the snow like rubies on quartz.
"...I'm…fine…"
On her side, Richard grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a hollow in the wall of the nearby house. He pushed her rifle into her hands and muttered something along the lines of "Stay here" before turning away and running off.
Too weak to open her eyes, she rasped out several shaky breaths and clutched her rifle to her chest. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew she should be aware of her surroundings and not let her guard down in the middle of an assault, but her body refused to listen.
And so she sat and waited and wondered if this would be how she would die—her rifle in her hands but too frail to defend herself from an evil Nazi soldier.
No Nazi showed up.
Instead, Richard returned with Bucky in tow. Bucky's hand roughly pressed against her forehead, and he muttered a slew of curses.
"She's burning up," Bucky exclaimed, his voice distant and fuzzy in Suzie's ears.
"She coughed up blood, too," Richard added.
Bucky must have turned to spot the droplets of blood on the ground because he let out another strand of vibrant curses. The two men didn't say anything for a while, but Bucky shuffled beside her. Seconds later, a thick jacket fell on top of her. He pried the rifle from her hands and slid his arms under her knees and behind her back.
"...No…" Suzie muttered in protest. She lifted a shaky hand in a feeble attempt to push Bucky away. "...'M…fine…"
Bucky's response buzzed in her head. The sounds of the battle flittered away as Bucky hoisted her up as if she weighed nothing. When another coughing fit wracked her body, Bucky held her closer to his chest and shifted the position of his arm to press the side of her head against his shoulder.
"...Let…me…stay…" Suzie whined. But her eyes stayed plastered shut and she didn't fight her brother when he stood up and carried her away from the fight.
"Go to sleep, dumbass," Bucky replied.
They were moving, and Suzie couldn't help but feel safe in her brother's strong arms as he strode across the town. Some part of her wondered how he had managed to avoid any of the illnesses tormenting the troops or had stayed so strong without proper nutrition.
The world works in mysterious ways.
She found herself on a truck and Bucky's gentle presence disappeared. Despite her best efforts, the rattling of the truck's broken suspension and the jolting of the hard surface she lay on kept her from falling asleep. The sky above the open back of the truck swirled in the foggy gray of an impending storm. Or maybe the haze was from the pneumonia.
She couldn't tell the difference anymore.
The clattering of the truck thumped her sore head against the side of the truck bed. She dimly noted another man lying beside her, his quiet whimpers accompanied the ringing in her ears.
Then the truck stopped and she floated away again. Voices conversed around her and strong arms placed her on a soft surface. A gentle hand rested on her forehead, a sharp needle jabbed into the crook of her elbow, and a cool calm washed through her. The smell of chemicals, blood, and death mingled in the air and she thought she threw up. A bitter liquid poured down her throat and a damp cloth brushed against her lips.
Through it all, she slipped in and out of consciousness, too exhausted to keep her eyes open for more than a few minutes at a time. Every breath took significant effort and she couldn't stop shaking. Restful sleep evaded her, but somehow she managed to pass out several times.
She woke up to Alice staring down at her.
"Wow, you're back," Alice said. Her red lips tugged into a judgemental frown. As always, not a single hair stood out of place on her neat, blonde head despite her frazzled and stained uniform.
"What?" Suzie rasped and rubbed the gunk from her eyes.
"It's becoming a habit with you, isn't it? Winding up in the infirmary again." Alice shoved a pill and a glass of water into Suzie's hands. "Honestly, I'm surprised you made it this long without getting severely hurt or sick. Probably a new record for you; you haven't been in the infirmary in months but you were bound to come back here soon, it's only just a matter of time."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Suzie choked out after swallowing the chalky pill. It scraped against her sore throat and she had to chug more water to ease the pain.
"Everyone's getting sick out there. Are you trying to do as much damage to yourself as humanly possible?"
Suzie scrunched up her nose in confusion. "What?"
"You shouldn't have waited to get help. Pneumonia's a serious problem. It's a killer, and letting it fester for so long can cause permanent damage or death. You really need to stop being so damn stubborn; it's a good way to get yourself killed."
Suzie stared down at the glass of water in her hands. Her shaking hands made the clear liquid ripple along the surface. Alice sounded like Richard, or maybe Richard started to sound like Alice. She shuddered at the thought of happy-go-lucky Richard becoming cynical and blunt like Alice. One Alice was enough, she didn't need two.
"Did I miss anything?" Suzie asked after finishing the rest of the water. The thought of Richard being out on the battlefield alone stirred up a desire to track him down. She doubted she'd get far, especially not while Alice stood watch.
Oblivious to Suzie's silent scheming of a potential escape plan, Alice shrugged and took the empty glass from Suzie's hands. "How would I know? All I've been doing is saving stubborn morons like yourself from life-threatening afflictions. At least most of the men here have the awareness to get help before they start coughing up blood." She grasped Suzie's wrist and checked her heart rate before adding, "Sounds like we're making good progress, though."
Suzie let the information settle for a bit. From Alice's demeanor, Richard must be fine and Suzie didn't need to worry about anything. She would never admit it, but Suzie kind of missed Alice's candid attitude toward everything, even if the nurse's bedside manners left much to be desired. Perhaps she only treated Suzie this way, otherwise, her supervisor would have made Alice clean up her demeanor.
"How Bucky finds your personality attractive is beyond me," Suzie teased.
To her credit, Alice doubled down and let Suzie's arm drop unceremoniously onto the cot. "Oh, someone's feeling better." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't overexert yourself, Private Smartass, I'd hate for you to lose your voice."
Alice executed a perfect spin on her heel to fix the IV attached to Suzie's arm. She replaced the empty IV bag and then suddenly turned to face Suzie head-on. "Speaking of your very handsome brother, he's here to see you. Are you awake enough to handle it?"
Suzie sat up in bed and instantly regretted doing so. A wave of dizziness soared through her head and she collapsed back onto the single measly pillow.
"Don't pass out before he even gets here," Alice warned. She fluffed up the rock-hard pillow and helped Suzie sit up. "I'll send him in as well as some food. Lots of food and rest will stave off the fever."
Alice left Suzie to stew in her thoughts. While she waited for Bucky to arrive, Suzie took in her surroundings. From the looks of it, she returned to a base in France. The walls were actual walls instead of the burlap sides of tents or the icy pits of rapidly dug foxholes. Dozens of men lay in two rows of uncomfortable cots. Alice must have pulled some strings to put Suzie in a corner again because the wall on her left side offered some privacy–not much, but Suzie would take being surrounding by sick men on three sides instead of four any day.
The man on her right side lay fast asleep, his left leg elevated in a sling attached to the ceiling. His leg ended at a stump and bandages wrapped around the missing ankle, no doubt amputated from a serious case of frostbite or trench foot.
The man across the aisle from her sat engrossed in a letter. A thick bandage encircled his head and covered his right eye. He picked at the bandage until a nurse noticed and slapped his hand away.
Kitty-corner from her, another young man who looked significantly younger than Suzie lay staring at the short ceiling of the building, his hands clasped in prayer on top of his stomach. His lips formed quiet words, but Suzie couldn't make them out nor could she see what ailed him. The blankets probably obscured the injury, or perhaps he contracted pneumonia, too.
"Feeling better?" Bucky's voice cut in.
"Yeah," Suzie replied. Her chest still felt tight like someone had poured molasses into her lungs. Anytime she coughed, it tore at the inside of her throat and left a splitting headache in its wake. But her shivering dwindled to a minimum and she could sit up without the urge to vomit or faint.
Bucky looked rather put together, all things considered. His tangled hair needed combing, and his stubbled jaw required a shave, but he appeared uninjured. His fancy blue jacket didn't boast as many stains or tears as Suzie's clothes had suffered. He didn't even look tired—well, more tired than usual. Lucky.
"Good." Bucky sat down on Suzie's bed and pressed a hand against her forehead to check her temperature. "Heard you have pneumonia. It's not fun. I've had it when I…"
His voice trailed off but Suzie got the gist of it.
Disappeared for months, Suzie silently finished. And he had pulled through, somehow, no Alice required.
"I'm guessing we're winning?" Suzie asked to change the subject. She started coughing so Bucky grabbed the water next to her and poured out a glass. She took a long swig and relished the brief relief the cool water offered.
"Just about." Bucky's lips twitched in a quick, stiff smile. His steel-blue eyes were uncharacteristically shimmery. "Most of the fighting near the Ardennes is almost done. Lots of casualties and it's been tough for everyone, but if we keep moving at the rate we have, we're bound to win the war soon."
"That's good." She wanted to war to end. Everyone did, and they should all be happy about their progress.
Bucky didn't look happy.
"Something wrong?" Suzie asked. When he looked away and didn't respond, she placed a hand on top of his to garner his attention. "Bucky? What is it?"
Bucky shook his head and licked his lips in thought, fighting a battle against himself. "I…Steve…"
"Is Steve hurt?!" Suzie practically shouted. Panic surged through her but quelled when he shook his head again.
"No, he's fine. It's just…"
"Just what?"
A muscle jumped in Bucky's jaw as he contemplated his words. Giving up, he blurted: "We're leaving."
Suzie's head reared back so fast it bounced into the wall behind her. Ignoring the flaring pain, she mouthed unformable words and tried to comprehend what her brother had said.
"What?"
"Not right away," Bucky added. "We're leaving next week. We're needed elsewhere. Your regiment's been doing well, and it's not gonna be smooth sailing from here, but the brass thinks the 90th can handle themselves. Steve's put in a good word about the 90th, especially the 358th. I know there are a lot of sickness going around right now, but the brass hopes it'll clear up before February, and so we're leaving."
He glanced around and then leaned in to whisper, "We've spotted Hydra in other areas, so we're gonna take them out. It's a good tactical advantage to remove them from the map, and it could help win the war if they're gone."
Suzie couldn't form any response to the sudden revelation. She didn't want her brother the leave. She had spent forever trying to find him, and when she finally found him again, he couldn't stay. She knew she sounded selfish—she didn't care. What if he got hurt? Or captured by Hydra? Or—
Bucky's voice derailed her train of thoughts. "I wish I could stay, but I can't. I'm still worried about you and I want to stay here, but I'm needed somewhere else. Special orders and whatnot. It's part of my contract; I knew it when I signed."
"I thought you said you got drafted." Why she pointed out such a dumb thing, she had no idea but it was the only thought she could formulate into a complete sentence.
"I was, but I signed up for Captain America's team. Couldn't leave Steve to get in trouble alone. He needs someone to watch his back, and so do you. You've got your ginger-haired friend, so I guess you're not completely alone."
"And Alice," Suzie added.
Bucky's face furrowed in confusion. "Alice? As in Alice Baker?"
Suzie nodded and chuckled at the shocked expression on Bucky's face. "You didn't know we're friends?"
"I sure hope you didn't set us up."
Suzie shrugged, earning her a lighthearted punch on the shoulder and a slurred 'You little devil.'
"Hey," Suzie protested, a smirk spreading across her face. "I only set Alice up the first time. Everything else was entirely her. And don't blame me 'cause I just found out about it a few weeks ago."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "I should've known."
"Don't pick on the sick. I've gotta rest. Alice's orders."
Bucky snorted, yet the sadness in his eyes returned. "Promise me you'll take of yourself."
He held up a pinky and let Suzie lock her finger around his to shake. "I will as long as you promise to write often. And keep Steve out of trouble."
"Always." He leaned forward to ruffle Suzie's hair. "I can't decide who likes to get into trouble more: you or Steve."
"Steve," Suzie said, "definitely Steve. And he's aware of it, too."
"Glad to know that some things never change. Super soldier or not, he's still the same punk he's always been."
Suzie reached towards him, softly placed her hand in his, and gently squeezed. They shared a smile as they delved into the memories of all the mischief they managed over the years.
It calmed her to sit and reminisce with her brother even if it wouldn't last. The war forced them to focus their energy on other important tasks which left a void empty of typical sibling banter. Life had changed, the world had changed, their entire family had changed—but sitting here and sharing stories, they finally had a chance to grieve the loss of Ma and Travis together.
Although they couldn't fight the Nazis side by side, distance would never separate them forever. Once it all ended, they would reunite again and go home together.
Finals are approaching soon, so I don't know when the next update will be. I hope I can update every other week because I've got lots of ideas for the upcoming chapters. We're finally getting to the parts I've been dying to write since I first decided to rewrite this story. Just a friendly (or not so friendly, depending on how you put it) reminder, this story will not have a happy ending.
Do with that information as you wish, 'cause the train is about to leave the station. *wink, wink*