Warning for bloody depictions of death.
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Rhineland
Suzie didn't know what to think of Agent Carter. On one hand, the British woman had appeared rightfully broken up from Steve's sudden death and had given her Steve's footlocker. On the other, Carter had also seen right through Suzie's disguise which made her wonder if everyone else could, too. Someone would have reported it by now if they had. Still, the unlikely event of someone discovering Suzie's identity nagged at her, reminding her to stay out of trouble and be inconspicuous.
Then the SSR agent offered to train Suzie in hand-to-hand combat. Train her! In hand-to-hand combat! The absurdity of it almost made her ask Richard to slap her to make sure she didn't dream up the proposal.
Why on God's green Earth would an agent working for the SSR offer to train Suzie in hand-to-hand combat? Even though they had a cordial conversation around Steve's footlocker, they were not friends—not by a long shot.
Agent Carter had said she wished she could have done more to help Suzie. The SSR had turned down Suzie's desire to join the fight against Hydra, so Agent Carter had taken it upon herself to take Suzie under her wing. She said she might as well teach Suzie something useful in the week or two before the British woman had to return to the SSR.
At first, Suzie turned down the offer, because she already knew some hand-to-hand combat from basic training. Besides, she'd be shooting Nazis from a distance, not engaging in up close and personal brawls. She no longer wanted to fight anymore and she certainly didn't need to learn anything else right now. At the moment, she barely had enough energy to finish her daily tasks, let alone do anything other than squeeze herself into the smallest hole she could find, curl into a ball, and wait for the war to end so she could go home to a very disappointed and lonely Becca. She didn't need any damn combat training.
Alice disagreed. "If you don't take her up on the offer, I will. You know how strange it would be to see a nurse fightin'. Don't be an idiot, Suzannah. Do it."
Richard, for once, backed up Alice's statement. "Go for it. I think it'd be fun. 'Sides, you could always use it against Garcia and Lemay. They'll probably never leave you alone anyway."
They both, annoyingly, had a point. If Suzie didn't use the skills against the Nazis, then she could at least use them against the biggest bullies in the 358th. Plus, the exercise distracted her from thinking about Bucky and Steve. Maybe the agent planned it all along, using exercise to prevent her from wallowing in grief all day long.
Whatever the Brit's plan, it worked. In the evenings, Suzie joined the woman to go through a whole new fighting routine vastly different from the army's training and Bucky's boxing. The fighting style fit Suzie much better than the shoulder throws and basic punches the army had taught her in basic. The agent also had skill, and a flair for making even the simplest moves look like an elegant ballerina had taken up martial arts. She somehow turned fighting into a work of art—beautiful yet deadly.
Instead of only focusing on brute strength, Carter used her surroundings to her advantage and moved around like a graceful cat stalking its prey. She didn't go easy on Suzie either. Right out of the gate, Suzie kept landing on her rear, her pants quickly becoming sodden from the slushy remains of muddy snow.
"More often than not, your opponent will be bigger and stronger than you, so you must strike low, quick, and first. Use your surroundings because anything can be a weapon," Carter suggested. She extended her hand to help Suzie to her feet when Suzie had fallen for the umpteenth time.
"You fight dirty," Suzie complained. Not bothering to wipe away the mud splattered on her cheek, she crouched down into a boxer's stance and eyed Carter's shoulders. Bucky had always said to watch the shoulders because it usually gave away an opponent's move before an attack. It didn't work when Carter used whatever she could at her disposal to take Suzie down again and again.
Carter offered a brief smile but it didn't reach her eyes. "My brother used to say the same thing," Carter replied. Not a single hair stood out of place on her head and her cherry red lipstick remained smudgeless on her lips.
A twinge of envy passed through Suzie—this woman looked fabulous in a fight while wet mud covered Suzie from head to toe. Her once lovely locks no longer had the bounce and shine she had once prided herself upon. Bucky's hair looked a lot better than the pathetically short haircut the army had forced Suzie to wear. At least she didn't have to worry about getting hair in her face or having her long hair pulled. Still, Suzie lamented her beautiful haircut and wished she could grow it out all pretty again like Agent Carter's curls.
"Widen your stance," Carter said. She kicked the inside of Suzie's foot to push it into the correct position. "Put most of your weight on the balls of your feet instead of the toes or heels. And don't be so tense. Loosen up and relax, let your mind focus on the here and now instead of the possible outcome of a fight."
The same fight advice mumbo jumbo Suzie had heard dozens of times before sounded much more sophisticated in Carter's accent. Bucky's training tips had nothing on the way Carter spoke. The accent alone almost made Suzie want to stand up and listen to her every word.
Carter's skills cemented her authority on such a matter. She lunged forward without warning, and it took Suzie a half-second later to react and dodge in time to avoid the punch. Bringing up her hands, Suzie directed Carter's outstretched arm to the side of her head. A smile of pride tugged at her lips from her smart reaction.
The smile didn't last long because Carter used the momentum of the redirection to hook a leg behind Suzie's knee and swipe it out from under her, sending Suzie falling to the muddy ground once again.
"Don't give up now. The fight isn't over even if you are on the ground. Keep going."
Dammit, Suzie fumed, looking around to find something to use to her advantage. A stack of empty wooden crates sitting at the far end of the muddy road caught her eye. Drive Carter right into the crates to bring her down. Yes, it should work, like trapping someone in the corner of a boxing ring. She had seen Bucky do it plenty of times.
Bouncing to her feet, she sprung forward and let out a wild right hook. Carter blocked the punch and made another swipe for Suzie's leg. Anticipating the move, Suzie brought her knee up into Carter's stomach and smirked when the Brit let out a small grunt. Unleashing a flurry of punches, Suzie advanced, herding Carter toward the stack of crates. Carter blocked each punch, but Suzie didn't care because with a few steps more she could trip Carter over the crates and finally win a sparring match.
Lungs straining from the effort, Suzie pushed away from Carter to wind up a front kick. The hit landed, driving the older woman into the wood. Suzie rushed forward to finally pin Carter when the Brit suddenly bent over backward and flipped right over the crate. On the way down, she grabbed Suzie by the back of the head and smashed Suzie's forehead into the wood.
It didn't land hard enough to leave anything other than an abnormally painful bruise, but Suzie stumbled on wobbly feet. Palming the wound, she let out a groan of pain and frustration. How had Carter anticipated the crates? How the hell did she do a freaking flip?
"Clever," Carter said. She skirted around the crates and smiled. "Great job using your surroundings."
Suzie groaned in return. Then curiosity won over her pride. "How'd you do a flip?"
"Practice. Lots of it. It's not something you can learn overnight."
"Can I try?" Suzie asked. Becca would be so jealous if Suzie returned home doing flips. Maybe she should take up gymnastics.
Another smile tugged at Carter's lips. "I think learning how to divest someone of a gun would be more useful right now."
Suzie's eyes lit up and all the pain in her forehead faded away. She practically jumped to her feet like a child who handed a huge pile of candy. "Really?! You'd teach me?"
Carter nodded. "Of course. Whatever you want to learn—within reason—I will do my best to teach you."
Suzie nodded and watched Carter walk over to a bag sitting on the only dry crate in the pile. Out of the bag, she drew a rifle, checked to make sure it wasn't loaded and rejoined Suzie. Then, she handed the rifle to Suzie.
"Aim it at me," Carter said.
"What?" Suzie asked. The request surprised her. She never aimed a gun at an ally even on accident, much less on purpose and at the specific request of some fancy British agent.
"I will first show you how to take a gun so you can know what it looks like. Then I will teach you. If you want, you can double-check to make sure it isn't loaded."
Despite doubting Carter would hand her a loaded weapon, Suzie still checked the rifle for any ammo. Accident or not, the brass would also probably give her a dishonorable discharge if she shot an SSR agent at point-blank range. Better safe than sorry.
After finding no ammo, Suzie still flicked the safety on, raised the rifle, and settled the stock against her shoulder. She kept her finger away from the trigger and aimed it at Carter's chest. "Okay, now what?"
Carter slowly went through the motions for Suzie to watch. First, Carter grabbed the barrel with her left hand, pushed it away from her, and stepped to the side to avoid the line of fire. Then she rotated on her heel so her right leg could hook under Suzie's left knee to knock her off balance. She repeated it several times before switching places with Suzie. Suzie copied the movements, following Carter's suggestions at posture, foot position, and hand placements. After a dozen repetitions, they picked up the pace, falling into a rhythm of grabbing the barrel, redirecting the aim, and moving out of the line of fire.
At the end of the night, when the sun finally sank below the horizon, Carter finally called it a day and set the rifle to the side. They ended on a brief spar under the light of the moon, Suzie barely managing to avoid Carter's attacks. Getting a handle on Carter's style, Suzie finally managed to land a punch on Peggy's jaw even though it cost her a knee to the stomach in return.
Carter, naturally, ended by flipping Suzie over her shoulder and slamming her back into the ground. Winded, Suzie lay sprawled out on the mud and sucked in a deep breath of chilly air. The weather had not warmed up enough for anyone's liking, but Suzie's clothes stuck to her sweaty body. The mud also soaked through her clothes.
Carter offered Suzie a hand and pulled Suzie to her feet. "You are a quick learner." Did the woman even sweat? How she managed to stay so prim and proper after hours of sparring, Suzie had no idea.
"Thanks," Suzie mumbled. Despite her body wanting a break from the bruises and physical exertion, her head felt clear, focused, daring the Nazis to fight her hand to hand. Look at me now, you damn Krauts. I've got an SSR agent training me. What do you have?
"I don't have much time left here, but if you ever want to join the SSR or have questions, you are always welcome to send a telegram or letter. I'm here if you want someone to talk to. about anything. It doesn't have to be work-related."
Suzie contemplated Carter's words while chugging the rest of the water in her canteen. Against her initial reaction and distrust of the woman, Suzie couldn't hate her. The Brit had done more to help her than anyone else since Richard, Alice, and Sergeant Stone. Plus, the woman had skill, and Suzie couldn't help but respect her for it.
Maybe she had been too harsh in her judgment. Carter didn't deserve it. They were both grieving and while nothing could ever replace the loss in Suzie's heart, the exercise had helped alleviate some of the hurt.
"Suzie," Suzie blurted out, catching the other woman's attention and surprising even herself at her sudden outburst.
"I'm sorry?" Carter asked, confused.
"Earlier, you wanted to know my name," Suzie elaborated. "It's Suzie. Suzie Barnes."
Carter smiled. "It's nice to officially meet you, Suzie. It's a pretty name."
Suzie returned Carter's smile. "Nice to meet you, too…" The sentence dropped off, unsure of what name to call Carter by.
"You can call me Peggy."
Suzie extended her hand which Peggy shook. Through a simple handshake and an exchanging of names, a pact of sorts passed between the two of them—an understanding of trust.
"I can see why Steve liked you," Suzie said.
Peggy's smile turned a little sad, her brown eyes glimmering in the pale moonlight. "I'm sure both he and your brother would be proud of you. Not many could do what you have done."
"Once this war's over, maybe I can buy you a drink?" Suzie offered. Richard didn't drink much and Alice hardly left the infirmary tent. It would be nice to have someone to talk to over a cold, preferably alcoholic, beverage.
"I would like that."
They shook hands again, and Peggy led them out of the clearing. Under the light of the moon and thousands of stars twinkling in the night sky, the duo walked side by side. The beginnings of a sisterhood began to blossom in the middle of the war.
As the next few days continued with more training, Suzie's respect and gratitude toward Peggy grew like a small flower budding into the petals of a new friendship. After losing most of her family and making an irrational decision that had changed her life for the worse, she finally gained another friend—a sister who would never let her suffer through the war alone.
A blast from a burst mortar shell hitting too close for comfort shook the ground and hurtled a shockwave of dirt right into Suzie's face. Blinking away the sting of debris pelting her face, Suzie adjusted her helmet, hefted her rifle, and reloaded. Planting her foot against a small retaining wall, she jumped over to the other side. Richard nodded when Suzie joined him behind the cover of a pile of bricks and charred wood which once served as a support beam for a small house.
Damn Krauts, Suzie thought. They just never stop.
The entire regiment had locked in a battle against a strong German force for most of March now, and the damn SS troops refused to surrender. The 90th had made three previous river crossings in the last few weeks in an attempt to push the SS troops into surrending. This fourth one faired much differently than the others. The Germans had finally caught wind of what the Allies had planned and built up impressive defensive measures. No more quiet water crossings now, not when the Germans rained down hell from their secure defensive positions.
Landing on shore after huddling low and stuffing themselves like sardines in little metal crafts reminded her of the landing on the shores of Utah Beach way back in June of last year. Only this time, the path hadn't been already cleared by other troops. The 90th would be the ones clearing the way, putting themselves in the line of fire while disembarking from the landing crafts. Trying to find some cover in the open land of the river bank turned into a mad scramble for any bit of protection.
The Rhine had no business to be this large of a river. The waters were way too wide, way too deep for Suzie's liking and she had grown sick of seeing it way too often in the last month. She still didn't know how to swim. Eighty pounds of gear strapped to her back would not work as a floatation device. The freaking Germans were also shooting at everyone and raining down artillery to force the Allies away from their precious city of Mainz. What a hell of a way to go: dragged into the depths of the river by eighty pounds of gear because she never learned how to swim in a peaceful swimming pool, let alone swim under heavy artillery fire.
Thank goodness she had made it onto land without sustaining any injuries. The river could no longer claim her, instead now she could die in the streets of Mainz. At least it sounded better on paper—fighting on land sounded more heroic than drowning in some stupidly large river.
The whole situation of the city near the river reminded Suzie of New York and the Hudson River—if New York had been air raided by Allied bombers and occupied by Nazis. A twinge of homesickness pulled at her before a bullet whistled past her ear and brought her head back into the fight.
The air raids on the city had done nothing to hinder the Nazis' control of the city. Despite the blown-up buildings now reduced to rubble, ashes, and debris, the Germans held fast like a stubborn and angry leech. Almost every building had some residual signs of the Allied bombers. Large portions of the city had collapsed into the streets and blocked any vehicles from entering.
The lack of vehicles and tanks meant the 90th and the other Allied divisions had to attack on foot. This meant the Germans, who no doubt already holed up in the best places to shoot the approaching soldiers, had the advantage. Most likely, they probably even had their tanks stashed away somewhere to roll out if the Allies ever figured out how to bypass the rubble-filled streets.
Damn Krauts, Suzie thought again. As much as she hated fighting and longed to do anything other than constantly be in life-or-death scenarios, the brass said capturing the Rhineland would mark the beginning of the end of the war. Low-ranking soldiers like her could not do much other than follow orders when the brass had their minds set on sending their troops straight into German-occupied territory.
If I had known things would get this bad, I never would have enlisted, Suzie grumbled in her head as thoughts of sitting in her bedroom reading a lovely romance novel while wrapped in a nice warm blanket mocked her. She had nobody to blame but herself for her decision to join the army. In hindsight, it had been a terrible decision. What had she been thinking?
No amount of encouragement from Richard, Alice, or even Peggy Carter could ever change Suzie's mind. Travis and Ma were dead, Bucky's body lay in a mountain ravine, and Steve had crashed his plane God knows where. As long as Richard could survive the next few months until the war ended, Suzie didn't care if she died. He had a girl waiting for him at home, a big happy family, and a whole future already planned. All Suzie had were several dead family members, a depressed little sister, and a head full of stupid thoughts and irrational fears.
If I die, then at least I'd go out swinging, Suzie lamented. The Germans sure seemed hell-bent on accomplishing such a feat. A well-placed bullet or a thick shard of shrapnel could easily wipe her out. Humans were rather fragile beings. If she thought hard enough, the various ways humans discovered or created for the sole purpose of killing each other were downright terrifying. Fragile or not, humans were scary.
A blood-piercing holler startled Suzie from her dark musing. She peered around the wall shielding her and Richard from the street. Across the potholes and piles of rubble once belonging to houses, Suzie saw Garcia huddled over a large body lying in the middle of the street. Bullets soared past Garcia, miraculously missing him by mere inches as he pressed his hands against the large man's—Lemay's—chest.
Even from her distance, Suzie could see the pool of blood soaking into the mud, staining it a dark brown which shimmered in the pale sunlight. A lock of blonde hair stuck out from under the green helmet, a strange similarity somehow reminding her of Steve, except Steve never bullied her simply because she existed.
"What's Garcia doing?" Richard asked, his voice high and tense. The war had quieted him down over the past few months. He said the scar from his previous bullet wound still ached sometimes. Continuous strenuous activity only increased the ache.
"He's gonna get shot," Suzie observed.
"That's his own fault, then," Richard replied and turned back to the fighting, the scene of Garcia panicking seemingly ignored.
Suzie almost turned away to leave Garcia stranded in shock as Lemay bled out in the middle of the street, the stacks of debris their only cover. Then she imagined herself out there, kneeling over Richard while Garcia or someone else left them to their demise. Sure, Garcia and Lemay were jerks—had almost killed her and sent her to the hospital several times—but they were her allies, her comrades. They didn't deserve to die, unarmed and unaware of their surroundings. The Nazis were the biggest bullies around and while Garcia and Lemay were not good men, they were good soldiers and still focused their attention on shooting the enemy. If she had been in Garcia's position, she would have wanted someone to swoop in and pull her from harm's way.
"Dammit," Suzie swore under her breath. She pushed the rim of her helmet out of her eyes and checked the magazine of her rifle. What another hell of a way to go: saving two of her tormentors from hidden Nazi machine guns ripping them to shreds.
Before she could change her mind, Suzie hefted her rifle, told Richard to cover her, and checked the nearby buildings for any retaliation. Finding no visible Nazi she could easily shoot, she dashed out into the street.
"What are you doing?!" Richard called after her, his voice panicked and concerned.
Ignoring her friend, she dropped by Garcia's side. Up close, she could already smell the death and blood reeking from Lemay's large body. A hole had torn through his jacket right into his chest, blood spilling and soaking into the once-green clothing. He had probably died before he had hit the ground, the bullet tearing straight through his heart.
Garcia's hands pressed against the wound, trying in vain to stem the bleeding. He didn't seem to register the blankness in Lemay's blue eyes or the fact the man had already stopped breathing. Unaware of his lifeless friend, Garcia's whole body shook and tears rolled tracks down his soot-covered face.
The unexpected sight of Garcia crying brought a lump to Suzie's throat and she had to compose herself before placing a hand on Garcia's shoulder. "We need to move," Suzie said.
"Get a medic," Garcia snapped but his words lacked any anger, only panic.
"Garcia…"
"No! Get a medic!"
"It's not worth it. He's already gone." Suzie tried to pry Garcia's hands away from Lemay's gaping chest but the man held firm.
"No," Garcia mumbled to the corpse. He didn't react when a bullet tore through the upper arm of his left sleeve. "Come on, Wally, don't do this. This isn't funny!"
"It's not a joke, Garcia. We need to move now!" The urge to leave and find cover made her whip around and catch Richard's attention. They locked eyes and although Richard gave her a very decided look, he finally shook his head and rushed over to join her.
Together, they both grabbed a hold of Garcia under the armpits and dragged him away from Lemay. As soon as they started moving, Garcia began to struggle against Richard and Suzie in an attempt to claw himself back to Lemay's side. Tears streamed down his face and his brown eyes stared locked in on his friend's body as he muttered pleas of 'No!' and 'Wally!' like a scared child calling for his mother.
They finally got him away from the street and in some relative protection under an awning of an abandoned store. Hopefully far enough away from Lemay and out of sight from vigilant Nazi eyes, they deposited Garcia onto the ground and tried to hold him there. Suzie removed the canteen of water attached to his belt and shoved it into his hands to force him to focus on the present. It didn't work.
Without Lemay in his line of sight, Garcia's struggling increased and his hollering reached a point where Richard clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the cries.
"Get out of my way!" Garcia growled, pushing Richard's hand away from his mouth. His brown eyes still did not see anything in front of him. His bloody hand smeared a line down the sleeve of Richard's jacket but Richard planted himself like a tree and blocked Garcia from standing and walking straight into the street.
"Hold him down," Suzie said to Richard.
"I'm trying!" Richard complained. "You were a lot easier to carry than him."
Suzie ignored the comment, instead yanking out a roll of bandages and flicking open her knife to cut away the fabric on Garcia's bicep. The cloth had soaked up most of the blood but Suzie poured a little water from Garcia's discarded canteen to clear the wound. The bullet had only grazed his arm, so Suzie wrapped a bandage around it and skipped the morphine because he clearly was in shock and not feeling any pain from the wound.
"What are we going to do?" Richard asked. He had given up on trying to talk some sense into Garcia. "We can't leave him here and we can't abandon the mission."
"We'll find a medic to take him somewhere safe."
Richard's voice lowered even though Garcia didn't appear to understand them at all. "Are we sure we want to go through the effort of helping him? I mean, he did attack you several times. That's straight-up assault."
"Bully or not, we're not leaving a man behind. Let him rot in jail, not in a German town." When Richard's lips pressed into a thin line of frustration, Suzie added, "Maybe you'll be the prosecutor in his court case. I'm sure he'll get into some legal trouble after the war…if he ever gets out of shock."
"Fine."
In agreement, Suzie left Richard behind to keep an eye on Garcia while she went in search of a medic. The battle thankfully had already begun to wind down as the German defenses started to deteriorate and crumble against the Allied onslaught. Although not completely safe from a stray German soldier, Suzie made her way through the blitzed city to find a medic and bring him to where Garcia and Richard sat huddled near the storefront.
In the time it took to find a medic, Garcia had finally stopped struggling against Richard. Now, he sat there unseeing, his fists pressed together in a rough approximation of praying. He didn't react when the medic checked the wound on his arm or when a truck arrived to haul him away.
Once the battle died down, the Allied forces swept the town for Germans, took those alive and relatively uninjured prisoner, and commanded the troops to stand down and await further orders. The clean-up party began digging holes in a nearby churchyard, so Suzie and Richard joined the grisly task. They laid out any dead Nazis into the streets in long rows of bodies separate from the Allied casualties. Trucks drove any Allied soldier who died in the battle out of the city where the dead would earn proper burials.
Out of pure luck—either bad or good—Suzie watched a truck rumble away, several bodies squeezed together in the back. Catching sight of a head of blonde hair, she paused her digging, unable to look away.
Lemay's large hand dangled over the edge of the truck bed, jostling with every bump of the suspension. She couldn't see his face but he lay turned toward the sky—toward the heavens where he now awaited judgment from the Holy Lord up above.
She wished she could say Lemay had been a good man, but he never was. Still, he didn't deserve a death like that, and Garcia certainly didn't deserve to sit in shock in an infirmary somewhere. Who knows if Garcia would ever recover from the sight of watching his friend bleed out in front of him. Never could she imagine herself being able to relate to Garcia. They had both watched someone close to them bleed out: Suzie had watched Travis and now Garcia had watched Lemay.
Something twitched inside of her, and it took her a while to figure it out. Relief. Relief from the near-constant torment from Garcia and Lemay. They would no longer bother her or Richard.
A pang of guilt at the selfish thought caused her to stiffen and return to her digging in an attempt to stifle the idea. She shouldn't speak ill of the dead nor use the tragic events as confirmation of Garcia and Lemay's affliction finally ending. Bullies or not, Garcia and Lemay had been like two peas in a pod, always together in a twisted display of friendship. They were prime examples of partners in crime, and Suzie had no idea how Garcia could ever move past Lemay's death. The way Garcia had reacted to separating from his friend proved the man had a long journey ahead of him. Suffering like that was something Suzie would never wish on anyone.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, Suzie pushed away the image of Richard taking Lemay's place on the truck of the dead. As she dug a grave for a dead Nazi soldier, she couldn't stop another dark thought from crossing her mind. How many more would die before the war finally ended?
I initially didn't plan for Peggy and Suzie to meet, but then I thought of Peggy teaching Suzie how to fight, and things developed from there. I kept their training relatively brief because I want the story to keep moving along, but Suzie has learned some very useful skills from arguably one of the best agents in the MCU.
Again, the Battle of the Rhine/Battle of Remagen/The Rhineland/Operation Plunder was a real battle. I'm trying to keep things historically accurate, but things are going to diverge a little from the history books in the upcoming chapters. We don't have a whole lot of information in the MCU canon around this time of the war. This is a great opportunity to fill in some blanks with my own headcanons and creative liberties.
Lemay's death had been planned for a while, so this was the reason why he and Garcia were not kicked out of the army. I wanted this scene to happen eventually, and it meant that, despite their several attacks against Suzie, Garcia and Lemay had to stay in the army. Also, if you forgot their first names, it's Dennis (Denny) Garcia and Walter (Wally) Lemay. Will this be the last time we see Garcia? I don't know. The pacing is going to pick up a bit soon. Things are gonna happen, and again, I want to reiterate, this story will not have a happy ending. Do with that information as you will. ;P