Soldier Boys
What's up guys? Well, actually there won't be a lot of action going on in this chapter, except for a fight later on, and Ville gets his assignment this chapter. This chapter is still PG-13, however there are a few strong curse words in it, so just be careful.
Title:Soldier Boys
Author:MGSSnake
Rating: Mostly PG-13 for swearing, R rated scenes will be documented and clearly marked when making an appearance.
Pairing: Vam
Warning: Violence, cursing, gore, human mutilation.
Disclaimer: The events/battles documented in this story and famous historical figures were real and did in fact happen, however the characters and other currently living people, were added as a work of fiction, any and all situations in which these characters are included in are purely fictional and should not be taken too seriously. Please remember the millions of lives lost around the world during this time period as you continue. I dedicate this story to their memories.
Currently, bonevalo is writing "Auschwitz: Work Means Love", go and worship her. :D
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Ville sighed heavily as he glanced around at his surroundings, the small pencil he held in his right hand pausing momentarily after finishing the end point of the sentence. The green-eyed corporal really didn't know where he was, or how he got there. The only thing he knew is that the war raged on, everyday, the bodies of countless hundreds piled up. Heck, even the ones assigned to dig the graves were soon digging their own as the constant game of push and pull continued over the battle scarred lands. Ville continued to stare at the land around him as uniformed men charged, one after the other into battle, only to collapse seconds, minutes, hours or, for the lucky ones, days later. Glancing momentarily down at himself, his attire was not of the German forces, or any army for that matter. He was just a regular person now, a casual innocent that the boys in uniform fought so hard to protect. An earsplitting explosion erupted across the courtyard of a small centre of buildings a few meters to the green-eyed man's position. He merely watched as rocks and other forms of debris rained upon him as well as shrieks and cries of pain filtering into the air.
...they never saw it coming. The Allied forces are just beyond the horizon, I can feel it as clear as the wind that howls at night. The Germans are fighting a losing battle; they were from the start. Why exactly do we fight wars? What's the point? What does it really solve anyway?...
"Hey, what are you writing?" a soft voice questioned.
"Nothing really," Ville answered as he glanced up at the blue-eyed man standing next to him.
"Mind if I join you?" he questioned politely.
"Not at all," the green-eyed man replied. "I would like some company actually."
"How long have you been sitting here?" the blue-eyed man questioned as he sat down to the green-eyed man's left.
"A few hours more or less," Ville answered as another explosion rattled the landscape, a few buildings collapsing from the shockwave. "So where did you come from?"
"Just arrived actually," the blue-eyed man replied. "My name's Brandon, what's yours?"
"Ville," the green-eyed man commented smiling. "I used to be a corporal...however my body never made it off of one of the beaches at Normandy."
"That sucks," Brandon replied tapping his fingertips together. "I was a specialist, however I guess I never made it at Utah Beach."
The two sat in silence for a few moments as they watched the remaining German forces in the small town flee in the opposite direction they were originally charging in. Moments following the panicked retreat, a squadron of about 15-20 Allied troops entered through the destroyed town centre. Ville then sighed and closed his momentarily forgotten journal, the small pencil acting as a bookmark. Brandon curiously glanced over at his new friend before following his gaze to stare at the approaching Allied Forces. The small venue they were currently seated outside of provided an adequate view of the invasion and ultimate capture of the small French town, the stony faces of the soldiers barely paying heed to the two fallen soldiers. The blue-eyed man then glanced down at his long, thin fingers, his knuckles visible beneath the stretched skin that was starting to crack from lack of moisture.
"And yet to think, I was once a part of them," Brandon mused softly, the last few recon soldiers jogging to keep up with the squadron.
"They seem a lot more organized than what I used to be a part of," Ville injected glancing over at his friend.
"All in all, I just don't think we were ever ready for another war so soon," the blue-eyed man concluded softly, leaning back against a cracked brick wall.
"Yeah," the green-eyed man agreed. "Hell, the majority of us were only high school boys, eager for some action."
"That sounds about right," Brandon sighed.
Ville allowed for his gaze to drop to the scarred surface of the once brilliant cobblestone road before sighing and leaning his back against the cracked brick wall Brandon was currently leaning against. The blue-eyed man cleared his throat momentarily before glancing over at Ville, locking gazes with him shortly after. Brandon furrowed his brow as he noticed a stray tear cascade down his newfound friend's face.
"How come you're crying?" he questioned as he lifted his left hand and smeared the saltine droplet with his thumb.
"War does many things to a man Brandon," Ville whispered. "They say that the true nature of a man is revealed on the battlefield."
The blue-eyed man pursed his lips a few times before reverting his gaze to the broken street once more, his own thoughts raging inside of his mind. The soft baritone voice of his companion caused him to revert his gaze back toward Ville, the green-eyed man softly singing in a language he could have guessed wasn't German. The language sounded too calming and artistic than the German language he was used to hearing.
"What are you singing?" he questioned curiously.
"A lullaby my mum used to sing to me when I was younger," the green-eyed man answered stoically. "I hail from Finland."
"Finland?" Brandon questioned. "What are you doing in the German army then?"
Ville thought his answer over in his mind a few times before glancing over at his friend, the boy's bright crystalline-blue eyes shining radiantly with curiosity. The green-eyed man's smile grew slightly before leaning closer.
"To tell you the truth," he began. "I really don't know. I guess it was my boyish fantasy of all things dangerous being interesting that got me into this mess."
Brandon paused for a moment before a smile slowly crept onto his face.
"You have very pretty eyes," he commented softly.
\~*~/
Ville groaned softly as he slowly left his dream world due to the wake-up call echoing throughout the base. He buried his head underneath his pillow muttering repeated no's into his mattress. He didn't want to wake up just yet; he wanted to see that blue-eyed angel once more before he had to go. Growling, he threw his pillow onto the floor before crawling out from underneath his blankets. Today was the final day he would spend at this fort, however, there was always that miniscule emotion in the back of his mind that would always make leaving even a prison hard. He wondered where Xavier would be transported to and when he would be leaving. As if to answer his own question, a small knock on his door echoed softly in his small room. Groaning, Ville slipped out from under the warm sheets before trudging over to the door and opening it. There stood a rather emotionally shaken Xavier, the previous spark of mischievous nature that once resided in the young private now practically vanished.
"May I have a few moments to speak with you?" he questioned softly, his voice slightly worrying the green-eyed corporal.
"Of course, come in," Ville welcomed as he opened the door wider, standing to his right to permit Xavier entrance.
The young private smiled weakly before entering the green-eyed corporal's quarters. Sighing he pulled the small wooden chair out from the small cubby of the mahogany desk stationed in a far corner of the room. Sitting down on the rather hard wooden chair, Xavier leaned back against the back of the chair and placed his slightly clenched hands on his lower thighs before glancing up at his friend who chose to sit down cross-legged on his slightly ruffled bed. A long pause followed by a heavy sigh caused the two friends to glance at the floor before each other, one waiting for the other to begin first.
"So," Ville ventured, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "What's on your mind?"
"Tell me Ville, old friend," Xavier began, a nervous quiver in his voice. "Have you been assigned to a duty outside of here yet?"
"Not that I know of, why?" the green-eyed corporal questioned, his gaze falling upon his visibly shaken comrade.
"No reason," the hazel-eyed private whispered as he bowed his head.
"Xavier," Ville called, gaining his friend's attention. "What's wrong buddy? You seem so upset about something."
"It's just," Xavier began before pausing to release a heavy sigh once again, his gaze falling to the floor. "Well, have you ever heard of the concentration camps?"
"Yes, why?" the green-eyed corporal questioned, his brow furrowing in concern.
"Well, that's my new assignment," the hazel-eyed private informed. "I'm scheduled to be transported to Auschwitz to begin training to be a patrol officer. It starts early tomorrow morning."
Ville slowly exhaled as he allowed for his head to droop slightly, his left hand firmly supporting his head before threading through his short hair. He had indeed heard of the concentration camps before, but thanks to the overheard conversations at the proverbial "lunch table" in the mess hall, Auschwitz had become a vibrant name to be either revered or feared. Ever since their construction, concentration camps had each been given names and specific holding reasons. Some concentration camps such as Buchenwald, Dachau and Flossenbürg were labor camps, where the innocent victims of the German Army's wrath were sentenced to work in hostile conditions with very little in the form of health and well-being consideration. Other camps such as Oranienberg were holding camps where the condemned were kept in small villages or ghettos until more could be accepted into the camps. However the dreaded camps such as Auschwitz and Treblinka, which were still under basic construction, were going to be death camps. Calling back on previous knowledge from the commander's meeting, Ville learned that these horrid death camps would house many crematoriums and large furnaces where bodies of the victims either alive or dead would be burned. The utter thought made his skin crawl. He wished now more than ever that his assignment wouldn't be at a death camp, or any concentration camp for that matter. However, Xavier was already informed of his assignment, so basically, there was no turning back for his friend.
"Ville?" Xavier's hushed words interrupted his momentary reflection period, causing the green-eyed corporal to glance up. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, a small smile stretching his pale red lips.
"I still can't believe it," the hazel-eyed private sighed. "Out of all the positions I could have been sent to, I have to go and train at the soon-to-be death camp known as Auschwitz."
"I'm sorry X," Ville apologized. "I really wish that there was something I could do."
"Don't worry about it," Xavier replied smiling weakly. "I was just complaining and feeling sorry for myself. Thanks for listening though."
"Hey, what are friends for right?" the green-eyed corporal questioned smiling.
The hazel-eyed private smiled widely and chuckled as he stood and walked over to his friend who stood up to meet him. Extending his hand, Xavier waited patiently for his comrade to accept and return his friendly gesture. Glancing into his friend's gaze, Ville enclosed his right hand around Xavier's and shook his hand before pulling him into a friendly embrace. The hazel-eyed private lightly patted his green-eyed friend on his back a few times before pulling away.
"I hope you kick some major Allied butt Vil," Xavier wished as he turned and exited the small room.
"I hope you keep yourself alive out there X," Ville whispered as he watched the door close softly. "And I hope your sanity is stronger than your fear."
\~*~/
December 1939,
Well, this is it, I'm finally on my way to becoming a part of the U.S. Army. I must say though that the training in Arizona really wasn't that bad, compared to the 13 weeks of hell known as basic training. I sent a letter to Jess not too long ago, and I have yet to hear back from him. I figured that I might as well send a letter home as well; even though mom and dad might not want to admit it, they miss me terribly. I don't know, I just hope they send me something to read. And speaking of reading, today's newspaper was very vibrant. The two biggest headlines besides who won the Sunday football game was Germans invade France!. The actual headline itself taking up about one-sixth of the whole front page. Germany's really pushing the Allied Forces, however, possibly learning from World War I's mistakes, hopefully we'll stay out of this war. I know that this war was what got me into the army in the first place, but seeing the evening reports and live feeds from France didn't really help to ease the tension in my being. I wonder how our ally, France, is right now? I wonder if Germany is only taking residence in the country and not ultimately destroying it, and if the latter part is true, I don't think Great Britain would just stand by and allow it to happen.
Well, in other news, President Roosevelt's term is almost up. I wonder if the American public will reelect him. I personally don't care; politics never really were in my interest anyway. I met my new roommate a few weeks ago as well. His name is Christopher Salem, but I just call him Chris for short. He's like the complete opposite of Shane. He's always very neat, and tidy, he makes his bed every morning and takes extra special care when cleaning his uniform. However unlike his clean habits, he sure is an asshole. I mean really, who could have thought that aside from my mother, I'd have to fall victim to one of his temper tantrums. It was ridiculous. However I can't really tell him to shut up because he's a rank higher than I am, so technically, he's my commander; a little too high strung for my tastes.
I really miss Jess and my family. I wish I could go home, considering the fact that Christmas is coming up soon, and I really yearn for mom's home-cooked ham and potatoes dinner with peas and carrots and apple pie for dessert. Yum, my mouth is already watering at the thought. Then after supper, we'd all bundle up and go out to sing carols on lamp-lit city corners, some random passersby either pausing to listen or even join and sing along. Ah, those were the days. I had the weirdest dream ever last night too. That green-eyed man who I keep seeing a lot recently in my dreams was writing in his own journal. I think we were in France somewhere, I'm not really sure where though. Anyway, we basically just talked about the war the whole time before I said he had pretty eyes. I only wish I could have stayed asleep long enough to hear his answer. I must say though that aside from his eyes, he has a pretty nice body...yum. Okay, now I'm allowing for my fantastic hormones to take over again. Ugh, stupid hormones, stop doing that!...
"Brandon!" Christopher shouted as he entered the room.
"What?" Brandon questioned as he quickly closed his journal.
"I told you to clean up your side of the room seven times already!" he screamed, a few spidery veins bulging against his skin on his forehead and his neck.
"Sorry, I got side-tracked," the blue-eyed specialist replied as he reopened his journal and, turning to a blank page, proceeded to draw.
"Margera!" Chris shouted as he stormed closer. "Clean up your area now!"
Brandon merely ignored his roommate's constant shouting and continued to draw. He smirked as the sound of an annoyed groan echoed in his room mate's throat, however just as he was about to finish the person he was drawing's facial features, his journal was ripped out of his hands.
"Hey!" he cried as he quickly jumped off of his cot. "Give me that back!"
"Not until you clean up your area," Chris commented as he dangled the journal just out of Brandon's reach.
"Give me it back you mother fucker!" the blue-eyed specialist screamed as he balled his right hand into a fist and fired his prominent knuckles against Chris's jaw.
"Agh!" the hazel-eyed corporal cried as he dropped the journal and gently cradled his throbbing jaw in his hands. "You little brat!"
"Don't you ever touch my private things again you filthy excuse for a corporal!" Brandon screamed as he grabbed his writing utensil and stormed out of his shared quarters.
\~*~/
Brandon seethed as he curled up next to a sturdy willow tree, his journal clutched tightly in his grasp as he banged his head against the coarse bark of the tree. He had only been at the camp for a few months and already he was causing trouble that could get him dismissed from the army. If that would happen, where then would he go? Jess was still in the navy, his parents surely wouldn't want to take him in, and Andrew....well, he really didn't want to think about him at the moment. Sighing heavily, he reopened his journal to the page he had been drawing on, the person's eyes, nose, mouth and chin were roughly finished. Resting his journal on his thighs, Brandon continued his drawing, the memory of his dreams guiding his pencil.
"Hey, what'cha doing?" a voice questioned behind him.
The blue-eyed specialist nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to notice the smiling face of a fellow infantryman in his squadron. Sighing in relief he quickly closed his journal and scooted further away from the individual, lightly patting the ground next to him. Smiling vibrantly, the private sat down next to him, extending his legs out before him.
"So, what are you doing out here all alone?" the private questioned, his aquamarine-colored eyes sparkling.
"Thinking," Brandon replied somberly. "I never really did catch your name.."
"Oh, sorry," the aquamarine-eyed private chuckled. "My name's Marcus, what's yours?"
"Brandon," the blue-eyed specialist replied. "But you can call me Bam for short."
"Bam?" Marcus questioned. "That's a funny name, what would you call me then?"
"How about Mac?" Brandon questioned. "Or no, how about MC?"
"Ha! I like the second one," the aquamarine-eyed private laughed. "Just call me MC!"
The blue-eyed specialist laughed heartedly as his newfound friend joined a few seconds later.
"So, what were you drawing?" Marcus questioned smiling.
"Nothing special," Brandon replied as he flipped to the page.
"Wow, that's really good," the aquamarine-eyed private commented as he continued to stare at the picture.
"Thanks, it's not the best in the world but," the blue-eyed specialist began.
"Are you crazy?" Marcus interrupted. "You want to see crappy drawing, here let me show you."
Brandon smiled as his friend snatched the pencil and his journal briefly, scribbling something down before showing him moments later.
"See? I can't even draw a decent stick figure," the aquamarine-eyed private commented as he practically shoved the book into his friend's face.
"I think it's cute," Brandon replied smiling.
"Brandon Margera, please report to the Colonel's office post-hast," a loud announcement echoed over the fort's grounds.
"Uh-oh, someone's in trouble," Marcus teased.
"Yeah, most definitely," he replied standing.
\~*~/
"Sir, you wished to see me?" Ville questioned as he stood at attention before the principal commander of the training facility.
"Yes Valo, I did," he commented as he finished authorizing a document. "You have yet to receive an official assignment correct?"
"Yes sir," the green-eyed corporal agreed.
"Well Valo, there are quite a few open spots in current concentration camps," the principal commander continued.
"Yes sir, I am aware," Ville confirmed.
"That being said corporal," the commander replied as he stood from his chair. "Your assignment, which will be active early tomorrow morning, will be a patrol guard at Ravensbrück."
"Ravensbrück?" the green-eyed corporal questioned. "Isn't that an all-women's camp though?"
"Is there a problem corporal?" the commander questioned menacingly, venom figuratively dripping from his words.
"No sir," Ville replied.
"Good, you are dismissed." the commander commented as he waved his hand stoically for Ville to leave.
\~*~/
"Goddamn son of a bitch," Brandon cursed as he finished cleaning the last stall of the fourth bunker's bathrooms.
His so-called "meeting" with the Colonel was nothing more than another episode of him being screamed at while his room mate stood and watched with a smug grin on his face. He should consider himself lucky, though, seeing as how he just missed being expelled from the army. He also wasn't allowed to have dinner that night, and he had to finish cleaning the bathrooms by dusk so he could then hurry over to the kitchen and help clean up after the other soldiers. Part of him wanted to just curl up and cry, so far training and campus life was nothing more than an inescapable nightmare that he still had God knows how long left. At least he met someone today that could help him through the hard times. Maybe he could try to convince the Colonel to have Marcus be his room mate, but at the current time, he wasn't very well liked by the higher authorities, so he would just have to grit his teeth and bear with it until he got back on the Colonel's good side.
"Hey shrimp," he heard Chris's nagging voice behind him, causing his muscles to tense. "You missed a spot."
He gasped and vocally shivered as a bucket of ice-cold muddy water splashed all over him and the floor, rather large chunks of mud flying out from the bottom of the bucket to smack him in his back and head. Chris's partner in crime, Kyle Simon, began laughing afterward before quickly sprinting out the door to scoop up a handful of mud. Upon his return, Chris had managed to restrain Brandon and was currently coaxing Kyle to "aim for his face". The blue-eyed specialist had enough time to blink before Kyle chucked the dripping handful of mud into his face, the earthy material splattering all over his face, his shirt and the once clean areas he had recently finished. Chris laughed before throwing him down onto the now muddy floor, before he and his friend left, their sinister laughter slowly dying away. Brandon shuddered softly as he lay on the floor to allow the events that just happened to absorb into his subconscious. He then pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and blindly groped for the towel he had been using to clean the bathrooms with. Finally locating it, he carefully cleaned his face, wincing every so often as the soap passed over the small cuts he received from hidden rocks in the mud that was chucked into his face. Sighing he then glanced around at the now mud-splattered bathroom. Inhaling a stifled gasp, he threw the slightly muddy towel into the small bucket of soapy water before pulling his legs into his chest, his forehead resting upon his knees.
"What happened in here?" a familiar voice questioned as the owner of the voice stepped into the bathroom.
"Just go away," Brandon's broken voice cried as he wrapped his arms tightly around his legs. "Haven't you humiliated me enough for today?"
"Bam?" Marcus questioned as he glanced into the currently open stall. "What happened?"
"Nothing," he whimpered as he tried valiantly to hide the fact that he was weeping.
"Come on Bammie," Marcus whispered as he gently touched his friend's left arm. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"But...the bathroom.." Brandon questioned as he lifted his tear-stained face.
"I'll help you clean it up," the aquamarine-eyed private replied smiling.
The blue-eyed specialist sniffled before smiling and embracing Marcus. The aquamarine-eyed private calmly returned the embrace and softly whispered small pick-me-ups to help calm his weeping friend.
I think I'll end it there, Ville's adventure will continue next chapter, along with other happenings in Bam's world before the U.S. actually does get involved in WWII with the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Title:Soldier Boys
Author:MGSSnake
Rating: Mostly PG-13 for swearing, R rated scenes will be documented and clearly marked when making an appearance.
Pairing: Vam
Warning: Violence, cursing, gore, human mutilation.
Disclaimer: The events/battles documented in this story and famous historical figures were real and did in fact happen, however the characters and other currently living people, were added as a work of fiction, any and all situations in which these characters are included in are purely fictional and should not be taken too seriously. Please remember the millions of lives lost around the world during this time period as you continue. I dedicate this story to their memories.
Currently, bonevalo is writing "Auschwitz: Work Means Love", go and worship her. :D
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Ville sighed heavily as he glanced around at his surroundings, the small pencil he held in his right hand pausing momentarily after finishing the end point of the sentence. The green-eyed corporal really didn't know where he was, or how he got there. The only thing he knew is that the war raged on, everyday, the bodies of countless hundreds piled up. Heck, even the ones assigned to dig the graves were soon digging their own as the constant game of push and pull continued over the battle scarred lands. Ville continued to stare at the land around him as uniformed men charged, one after the other into battle, only to collapse seconds, minutes, hours or, for the lucky ones, days later. Glancing momentarily down at himself, his attire was not of the German forces, or any army for that matter. He was just a regular person now, a casual innocent that the boys in uniform fought so hard to protect. An earsplitting explosion erupted across the courtyard of a small centre of buildings a few meters to the green-eyed man's position. He merely watched as rocks and other forms of debris rained upon him as well as shrieks and cries of pain filtering into the air.
...they never saw it coming. The Allied forces are just beyond the horizon, I can feel it as clear as the wind that howls at night. The Germans are fighting a losing battle; they were from the start. Why exactly do we fight wars? What's the point? What does it really solve anyway?...
"Hey, what are you writing?" a soft voice questioned.
"Nothing really," Ville answered as he glanced up at the blue-eyed man standing next to him.
"Mind if I join you?" he questioned politely.
"Not at all," the green-eyed man replied. "I would like some company actually."
"How long have you been sitting here?" the blue-eyed man questioned as he sat down to the green-eyed man's left.
"A few hours more or less," Ville answered as another explosion rattled the landscape, a few buildings collapsing from the shockwave. "So where did you come from?"
"Just arrived actually," the blue-eyed man replied. "My name's Brandon, what's yours?"
"Ville," the green-eyed man commented smiling. "I used to be a corporal...however my body never made it off of one of the beaches at Normandy."
"That sucks," Brandon replied tapping his fingertips together. "I was a specialist, however I guess I never made it at Utah Beach."
The two sat in silence for a few moments as they watched the remaining German forces in the small town flee in the opposite direction they were originally charging in. Moments following the panicked retreat, a squadron of about 15-20 Allied troops entered through the destroyed town centre. Ville then sighed and closed his momentarily forgotten journal, the small pencil acting as a bookmark. Brandon curiously glanced over at his new friend before following his gaze to stare at the approaching Allied Forces. The small venue they were currently seated outside of provided an adequate view of the invasion and ultimate capture of the small French town, the stony faces of the soldiers barely paying heed to the two fallen soldiers. The blue-eyed man then glanced down at his long, thin fingers, his knuckles visible beneath the stretched skin that was starting to crack from lack of moisture.
"And yet to think, I was once a part of them," Brandon mused softly, the last few recon soldiers jogging to keep up with the squadron.
"They seem a lot more organized than what I used to be a part of," Ville injected glancing over at his friend.
"All in all, I just don't think we were ever ready for another war so soon," the blue-eyed man concluded softly, leaning back against a cracked brick wall.
"Yeah," the green-eyed man agreed. "Hell, the majority of us were only high school boys, eager for some action."
"That sounds about right," Brandon sighed.
Ville allowed for his gaze to drop to the scarred surface of the once brilliant cobblestone road before sighing and leaning his back against the cracked brick wall Brandon was currently leaning against. The blue-eyed man cleared his throat momentarily before glancing over at Ville, locking gazes with him shortly after. Brandon furrowed his brow as he noticed a stray tear cascade down his newfound friend's face.
"How come you're crying?" he questioned as he lifted his left hand and smeared the saltine droplet with his thumb.
"War does many things to a man Brandon," Ville whispered. "They say that the true nature of a man is revealed on the battlefield."
The blue-eyed man pursed his lips a few times before reverting his gaze to the broken street once more, his own thoughts raging inside of his mind. The soft baritone voice of his companion caused him to revert his gaze back toward Ville, the green-eyed man softly singing in a language he could have guessed wasn't German. The language sounded too calming and artistic than the German language he was used to hearing.
"What are you singing?" he questioned curiously.
"A lullaby my mum used to sing to me when I was younger," the green-eyed man answered stoically. "I hail from Finland."
"Finland?" Brandon questioned. "What are you doing in the German army then?"
Ville thought his answer over in his mind a few times before glancing over at his friend, the boy's bright crystalline-blue eyes shining radiantly with curiosity. The green-eyed man's smile grew slightly before leaning closer.
"To tell you the truth," he began. "I really don't know. I guess it was my boyish fantasy of all things dangerous being interesting that got me into this mess."
Brandon paused for a moment before a smile slowly crept onto his face.
"You have very pretty eyes," he commented softly.
\~*~/
Ville groaned softly as he slowly left his dream world due to the wake-up call echoing throughout the base. He buried his head underneath his pillow muttering repeated no's into his mattress. He didn't want to wake up just yet; he wanted to see that blue-eyed angel once more before he had to go. Growling, he threw his pillow onto the floor before crawling out from underneath his blankets. Today was the final day he would spend at this fort, however, there was always that miniscule emotion in the back of his mind that would always make leaving even a prison hard. He wondered where Xavier would be transported to and when he would be leaving. As if to answer his own question, a small knock on his door echoed softly in his small room. Groaning, Ville slipped out from under the warm sheets before trudging over to the door and opening it. There stood a rather emotionally shaken Xavier, the previous spark of mischievous nature that once resided in the young private now practically vanished.
"May I have a few moments to speak with you?" he questioned softly, his voice slightly worrying the green-eyed corporal.
"Of course, come in," Ville welcomed as he opened the door wider, standing to his right to permit Xavier entrance.
The young private smiled weakly before entering the green-eyed corporal's quarters. Sighing he pulled the small wooden chair out from the small cubby of the mahogany desk stationed in a far corner of the room. Sitting down on the rather hard wooden chair, Xavier leaned back against the back of the chair and placed his slightly clenched hands on his lower thighs before glancing up at his friend who chose to sit down cross-legged on his slightly ruffled bed. A long pause followed by a heavy sigh caused the two friends to glance at the floor before each other, one waiting for the other to begin first.
"So," Ville ventured, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "What's on your mind?"
"Tell me Ville, old friend," Xavier began, a nervous quiver in his voice. "Have you been assigned to a duty outside of here yet?"
"Not that I know of, why?" the green-eyed corporal questioned, his gaze falling upon his visibly shaken comrade.
"No reason," the hazel-eyed private whispered as he bowed his head.
"Xavier," Ville called, gaining his friend's attention. "What's wrong buddy? You seem so upset about something."
"It's just," Xavier began before pausing to release a heavy sigh once again, his gaze falling to the floor. "Well, have you ever heard of the concentration camps?"
"Yes, why?" the green-eyed corporal questioned, his brow furrowing in concern.
"Well, that's my new assignment," the hazel-eyed private informed. "I'm scheduled to be transported to Auschwitz to begin training to be a patrol officer. It starts early tomorrow morning."
Ville slowly exhaled as he allowed for his head to droop slightly, his left hand firmly supporting his head before threading through his short hair. He had indeed heard of the concentration camps before, but thanks to the overheard conversations at the proverbial "lunch table" in the mess hall, Auschwitz had become a vibrant name to be either revered or feared. Ever since their construction, concentration camps had each been given names and specific holding reasons. Some concentration camps such as Buchenwald, Dachau and Flossenbürg were labor camps, where the innocent victims of the German Army's wrath were sentenced to work in hostile conditions with very little in the form of health and well-being consideration. Other camps such as Oranienberg were holding camps where the condemned were kept in small villages or ghettos until more could be accepted into the camps. However the dreaded camps such as Auschwitz and Treblinka, which were still under basic construction, were going to be death camps. Calling back on previous knowledge from the commander's meeting, Ville learned that these horrid death camps would house many crematoriums and large furnaces where bodies of the victims either alive or dead would be burned. The utter thought made his skin crawl. He wished now more than ever that his assignment wouldn't be at a death camp, or any concentration camp for that matter. However, Xavier was already informed of his assignment, so basically, there was no turning back for his friend.
"Ville?" Xavier's hushed words interrupted his momentary reflection period, causing the green-eyed corporal to glance up. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, a small smile stretching his pale red lips.
"I still can't believe it," the hazel-eyed private sighed. "Out of all the positions I could have been sent to, I have to go and train at the soon-to-be death camp known as Auschwitz."
"I'm sorry X," Ville apologized. "I really wish that there was something I could do."
"Don't worry about it," Xavier replied smiling weakly. "I was just complaining and feeling sorry for myself. Thanks for listening though."
"Hey, what are friends for right?" the green-eyed corporal questioned smiling.
The hazel-eyed private smiled widely and chuckled as he stood and walked over to his friend who stood up to meet him. Extending his hand, Xavier waited patiently for his comrade to accept and return his friendly gesture. Glancing into his friend's gaze, Ville enclosed his right hand around Xavier's and shook his hand before pulling him into a friendly embrace. The hazel-eyed private lightly patted his green-eyed friend on his back a few times before pulling away.
"I hope you kick some major Allied butt Vil," Xavier wished as he turned and exited the small room.
"I hope you keep yourself alive out there X," Ville whispered as he watched the door close softly. "And I hope your sanity is stronger than your fear."
\~*~/
December 1939,
Well, this is it, I'm finally on my way to becoming a part of the U.S. Army. I must say though that the training in Arizona really wasn't that bad, compared to the 13 weeks of hell known as basic training. I sent a letter to Jess not too long ago, and I have yet to hear back from him. I figured that I might as well send a letter home as well; even though mom and dad might not want to admit it, they miss me terribly. I don't know, I just hope they send me something to read. And speaking of reading, today's newspaper was very vibrant. The two biggest headlines besides who won the Sunday football game was Germans invade France!. The actual headline itself taking up about one-sixth of the whole front page. Germany's really pushing the Allied Forces, however, possibly learning from World War I's mistakes, hopefully we'll stay out of this war. I know that this war was what got me into the army in the first place, but seeing the evening reports and live feeds from France didn't really help to ease the tension in my being. I wonder how our ally, France, is right now? I wonder if Germany is only taking residence in the country and not ultimately destroying it, and if the latter part is true, I don't think Great Britain would just stand by and allow it to happen.
Well, in other news, President Roosevelt's term is almost up. I wonder if the American public will reelect him. I personally don't care; politics never really were in my interest anyway. I met my new roommate a few weeks ago as well. His name is Christopher Salem, but I just call him Chris for short. He's like the complete opposite of Shane. He's always very neat, and tidy, he makes his bed every morning and takes extra special care when cleaning his uniform. However unlike his clean habits, he sure is an asshole. I mean really, who could have thought that aside from my mother, I'd have to fall victim to one of his temper tantrums. It was ridiculous. However I can't really tell him to shut up because he's a rank higher than I am, so technically, he's my commander; a little too high strung for my tastes.
I really miss Jess and my family. I wish I could go home, considering the fact that Christmas is coming up soon, and I really yearn for mom's home-cooked ham and potatoes dinner with peas and carrots and apple pie for dessert. Yum, my mouth is already watering at the thought. Then after supper, we'd all bundle up and go out to sing carols on lamp-lit city corners, some random passersby either pausing to listen or even join and sing along. Ah, those were the days. I had the weirdest dream ever last night too. That green-eyed man who I keep seeing a lot recently in my dreams was writing in his own journal. I think we were in France somewhere, I'm not really sure where though. Anyway, we basically just talked about the war the whole time before I said he had pretty eyes. I only wish I could have stayed asleep long enough to hear his answer. I must say though that aside from his eyes, he has a pretty nice body...yum. Okay, now I'm allowing for my fantastic hormones to take over again. Ugh, stupid hormones, stop doing that!...
"Brandon!" Christopher shouted as he entered the room.
"What?" Brandon questioned as he quickly closed his journal.
"I told you to clean up your side of the room seven times already!" he screamed, a few spidery veins bulging against his skin on his forehead and his neck.
"Sorry, I got side-tracked," the blue-eyed specialist replied as he reopened his journal and, turning to a blank page, proceeded to draw.
"Margera!" Chris shouted as he stormed closer. "Clean up your area now!"
Brandon merely ignored his roommate's constant shouting and continued to draw. He smirked as the sound of an annoyed groan echoed in his room mate's throat, however just as he was about to finish the person he was drawing's facial features, his journal was ripped out of his hands.
"Hey!" he cried as he quickly jumped off of his cot. "Give me that back!"
"Not until you clean up your area," Chris commented as he dangled the journal just out of Brandon's reach.
"Give me it back you mother fucker!" the blue-eyed specialist screamed as he balled his right hand into a fist and fired his prominent knuckles against Chris's jaw.
"Agh!" the hazel-eyed corporal cried as he dropped the journal and gently cradled his throbbing jaw in his hands. "You little brat!"
"Don't you ever touch my private things again you filthy excuse for a corporal!" Brandon screamed as he grabbed his writing utensil and stormed out of his shared quarters.
\~*~/
Brandon seethed as he curled up next to a sturdy willow tree, his journal clutched tightly in his grasp as he banged his head against the coarse bark of the tree. He had only been at the camp for a few months and already he was causing trouble that could get him dismissed from the army. If that would happen, where then would he go? Jess was still in the navy, his parents surely wouldn't want to take him in, and Andrew....well, he really didn't want to think about him at the moment. Sighing heavily, he reopened his journal to the page he had been drawing on, the person's eyes, nose, mouth and chin were roughly finished. Resting his journal on his thighs, Brandon continued his drawing, the memory of his dreams guiding his pencil.
"Hey, what'cha doing?" a voice questioned behind him.
The blue-eyed specialist nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to notice the smiling face of a fellow infantryman in his squadron. Sighing in relief he quickly closed his journal and scooted further away from the individual, lightly patting the ground next to him. Smiling vibrantly, the private sat down next to him, extending his legs out before him.
"So, what are you doing out here all alone?" the private questioned, his aquamarine-colored eyes sparkling.
"Thinking," Brandon replied somberly. "I never really did catch your name.."
"Oh, sorry," the aquamarine-eyed private chuckled. "My name's Marcus, what's yours?"
"Brandon," the blue-eyed specialist replied. "But you can call me Bam for short."
"Bam?" Marcus questioned. "That's a funny name, what would you call me then?"
"How about Mac?" Brandon questioned. "Or no, how about MC?"
"Ha! I like the second one," the aquamarine-eyed private laughed. "Just call me MC!"
The blue-eyed specialist laughed heartedly as his newfound friend joined a few seconds later.
"So, what were you drawing?" Marcus questioned smiling.
"Nothing special," Brandon replied as he flipped to the page.
"Wow, that's really good," the aquamarine-eyed private commented as he continued to stare at the picture.
"Thanks, it's not the best in the world but," the blue-eyed specialist began.
"Are you crazy?" Marcus interrupted. "You want to see crappy drawing, here let me show you."
Brandon smiled as his friend snatched the pencil and his journal briefly, scribbling something down before showing him moments later.
"See? I can't even draw a decent stick figure," the aquamarine-eyed private commented as he practically shoved the book into his friend's face.
"I think it's cute," Brandon replied smiling.
"Brandon Margera, please report to the Colonel's office post-hast," a loud announcement echoed over the fort's grounds.
"Uh-oh, someone's in trouble," Marcus teased.
"Yeah, most definitely," he replied standing.
\~*~/
"Sir, you wished to see me?" Ville questioned as he stood at attention before the principal commander of the training facility.
"Yes Valo, I did," he commented as he finished authorizing a document. "You have yet to receive an official assignment correct?"
"Yes sir," the green-eyed corporal agreed.
"Well Valo, there are quite a few open spots in current concentration camps," the principal commander continued.
"Yes sir, I am aware," Ville confirmed.
"That being said corporal," the commander replied as he stood from his chair. "Your assignment, which will be active early tomorrow morning, will be a patrol guard at Ravensbrück."
"Ravensbrück?" the green-eyed corporal questioned. "Isn't that an all-women's camp though?"
"Is there a problem corporal?" the commander questioned menacingly, venom figuratively dripping from his words.
"No sir," Ville replied.
"Good, you are dismissed." the commander commented as he waved his hand stoically for Ville to leave.
\~*~/
"Goddamn son of a bitch," Brandon cursed as he finished cleaning the last stall of the fourth bunker's bathrooms.
His so-called "meeting" with the Colonel was nothing more than another episode of him being screamed at while his room mate stood and watched with a smug grin on his face. He should consider himself lucky, though, seeing as how he just missed being expelled from the army. He also wasn't allowed to have dinner that night, and he had to finish cleaning the bathrooms by dusk so he could then hurry over to the kitchen and help clean up after the other soldiers. Part of him wanted to just curl up and cry, so far training and campus life was nothing more than an inescapable nightmare that he still had God knows how long left. At least he met someone today that could help him through the hard times. Maybe he could try to convince the Colonel to have Marcus be his room mate, but at the current time, he wasn't very well liked by the higher authorities, so he would just have to grit his teeth and bear with it until he got back on the Colonel's good side.
"Hey shrimp," he heard Chris's nagging voice behind him, causing his muscles to tense. "You missed a spot."
He gasped and vocally shivered as a bucket of ice-cold muddy water splashed all over him and the floor, rather large chunks of mud flying out from the bottom of the bucket to smack him in his back and head. Chris's partner in crime, Kyle Simon, began laughing afterward before quickly sprinting out the door to scoop up a handful of mud. Upon his return, Chris had managed to restrain Brandon and was currently coaxing Kyle to "aim for his face". The blue-eyed specialist had enough time to blink before Kyle chucked the dripping handful of mud into his face, the earthy material splattering all over his face, his shirt and the once clean areas he had recently finished. Chris laughed before throwing him down onto the now muddy floor, before he and his friend left, their sinister laughter slowly dying away. Brandon shuddered softly as he lay on the floor to allow the events that just happened to absorb into his subconscious. He then pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and blindly groped for the towel he had been using to clean the bathrooms with. Finally locating it, he carefully cleaned his face, wincing every so often as the soap passed over the small cuts he received from hidden rocks in the mud that was chucked into his face. Sighing he then glanced around at the now mud-splattered bathroom. Inhaling a stifled gasp, he threw the slightly muddy towel into the small bucket of soapy water before pulling his legs into his chest, his forehead resting upon his knees.
"What happened in here?" a familiar voice questioned as the owner of the voice stepped into the bathroom.
"Just go away," Brandon's broken voice cried as he wrapped his arms tightly around his legs. "Haven't you humiliated me enough for today?"
"Bam?" Marcus questioned as he glanced into the currently open stall. "What happened?"
"Nothing," he whimpered as he tried valiantly to hide the fact that he was weeping.
"Come on Bammie," Marcus whispered as he gently touched his friend's left arm. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"But...the bathroom.." Brandon questioned as he lifted his tear-stained face.
"I'll help you clean it up," the aquamarine-eyed private replied smiling.
The blue-eyed specialist sniffled before smiling and embracing Marcus. The aquamarine-eyed private calmly returned the embrace and softly whispered small pick-me-ups to help calm his weeping friend.
I think I'll end it there, Ville's adventure will continue next chapter, along with other happenings in Bam's world before the U.S. actually does get involved in WWII with the attack on Pearl Harbor.