Reasons
Cross-posted at hetalia100
Title: American Pie/ Reasons (either one, really)
Author: snappy8000
Prompt: Food
Character[s]/Pairing[s]: America (or Alfred; you know)
Rating/Warnings: Hm... no real warnings, really. So maybe G
Word-count: 249
His clothes felt sticky again; mud clung stubbornly to his combat boots. Mosquitoes swarmed around him constantly. It was, if anything, uncomfortable. Alfred was not used to tropical climate, much less the jungle he now saw daily. The rain had just let up and the air was dense, palpable even. Alfred, leaning against a particularly hard palm tree, closed his eyes and tried to summon back images of home, but found himself unable to remember anything beyond the cornflower blue skies of summer. Up ahead, the green canopy obstructed the view of the sky, which was probably overcast, anyway.
He chewed thoughtfully on his last chocolate bar, trying to ignore the dampness clinging to his shirt. It was then that the journalist asked. Apparently, they had been talking, the rest of the soldiers, but the blond had not really been listening, choosing instead to focus on the light drumming of raindrops on his helmet. Hersey's question somehow brought him back.
"What would you say you were fighting for?"
'What indeed?' Alfred wondered vaguely. Perhaps he was fighting for himself, but that didn't sound right. He was fighting for his people, wasn't he? Somehow, though, he suddenly remembered the small bakery just outside his house, the one that made him wake up to the smell of freshly baked bread every morning. He had promised to stop there once he returned. Alfred looked at the others and smiled sadly, suddenly homesick.
"Jesus, what I'd give for a piece of blueberry pie."
---
True story, it would seem. I have a book (from the 1960's, but still) about World War II. It includes eyewitnesses of several events. I was reading the chapter on the Pacific War, which includes Guadalcanal, where this drabble takes place, and there was this thing written by a journalist, John Hersey, who was at Guadalcanal for a while. He asked the soldiers, who were complaining about not getting enough information, what they were fighting for and one of them said that last line. This remark was followed by "Make mine apple with a few raisins in it and lots of cinnamon." They were, in Hersey's words, basically saying they were fighting "to get the goddam thing over and get home." I hope I was able to somehow, sort of, convey those feelings...
Title: American Pie/ Reasons (either one, really)
Author: snappy8000
Prompt: Food
Character[s]/Pairing[s]: America (or Alfred; you know)
Rating/Warnings: Hm... no real warnings, really. So maybe G
Word-count: 249
His clothes felt sticky again; mud clung stubbornly to his combat boots. Mosquitoes swarmed around him constantly. It was, if anything, uncomfortable. Alfred was not used to tropical climate, much less the jungle he now saw daily. The rain had just let up and the air was dense, palpable even. Alfred, leaning against a particularly hard palm tree, closed his eyes and tried to summon back images of home, but found himself unable to remember anything beyond the cornflower blue skies of summer. Up ahead, the green canopy obstructed the view of the sky, which was probably overcast, anyway.
He chewed thoughtfully on his last chocolate bar, trying to ignore the dampness clinging to his shirt. It was then that the journalist asked. Apparently, they had been talking, the rest of the soldiers, but the blond had not really been listening, choosing instead to focus on the light drumming of raindrops on his helmet. Hersey's question somehow brought him back.
"What would you say you were fighting for?"
'What indeed?' Alfred wondered vaguely. Perhaps he was fighting for himself, but that didn't sound right. He was fighting for his people, wasn't he? Somehow, though, he suddenly remembered the small bakery just outside his house, the one that made him wake up to the smell of freshly baked bread every morning. He had promised to stop there once he returned. Alfred looked at the others and smiled sadly, suddenly homesick.
"Jesus, what I'd give for a piece of blueberry pie."
---
True story, it would seem. I have a book (from the 1960's, but still) about World War II. It includes eyewitnesses of several events. I was reading the chapter on the Pacific War, which includes Guadalcanal, where this drabble takes place, and there was this thing written by a journalist, John Hersey, who was at Guadalcanal for a while. He asked the soldiers, who were complaining about not getting enough information, what they were fighting for and one of them said that last line. This remark was followed by "Make mine apple with a few raisins in it and lots of cinnamon." They were, in Hersey's words, basically saying they were fighting "to get the goddam thing over and get home." I hope I was able to somehow, sort of, convey those feelings...