Fic: The Princess And The Pilot X: Citizen-Soldiers (1/1)
Title: The Princess And The Pilot X: Citizen-Soldiers (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Diana
Series Notes: I’ve collected all my Steve/Diana stories that take place early in their relationship under the title The Princess And The Pilot. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Holiday, Slice-Of-Life
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Excess equals success.
Date Of Completion: December 6, 2021
Date Of Posting: December 26, 2021
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 827
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Hi, luvs! This is one of those stories in which the characters take over, so it’s a mix of Veterans’ Day and Thanksgiving. Enjoy! :)
The Shadow of War
Lengthens
Over generations.
May the Citizen-Soldier
Always believe
In Victory
With Peace.
Colonel Theodore
Roosevelt Longworth
United States Army
“The Soldier’s Soul”
1953 C.E.
Diana and Steve entered his house, carrying bowls of leftovers. They put the bowls in the refrigerator and Steve took off his coat, hung it up in the closet, plopped on the couch, and put a hand on his stomach.
“I’m stuffed,” he groaned.
“No doubt. Such excess!” Diana shook her head as she hung up her coat,
“It’s Thanksgiving.”
“So that is your excuse?”
“It’s a feast day. You Amazons don’t over-indulge on a feast day?”
Diana sat beside him on the couch. “Not quite so excessive.”
“I call shenanigans.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I bet your feasts can get pretty wild.”
“Oh?”
“It’s okay, Angel. Lets off steam. Pressure must build up, even in Paradise.”
Diana thought of the feasts she had attended back home and curled her legs up. She had followed Steve’s lead and worn dress pants and shirt, and she kicked off her shoes. Steve did the same and put his feet up on the coffee table, He wiggled his stockinged toes.
“C’mon, Angel, ‘fess up. If your feast days aren’t exactly bacchanals, they’re not exactly tea at Buckingham Palace.”
Diana sniffed as Steve laughed. She would have jabbed him in the side but was mindful of his full stomach. He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently.
“Do not try to ‘soft-soap’ me. Why must you over-indulge?”
“Angel, Americans are always excessive.”
“Apparently so.”
“Don’t underestimate us.” He yawned. “I think the tryptophan is working on me.”
“And I suppose you will tell me why?”
“I will.” He wiggled his toes again. “The Germans in World War II always underestimated us. Thought we were guilty of loving our creature comforts too much, our military burdened with an excess of equipment, food, support by the Navy during D-Day when the world’s largest armada appeared off the coast of Normandy.”
Diana nodded. She had studied the tactics of that day. “Considering the defenses the Nazis had built, it was wise to have such support.”
“Bet the German Army on the Russian Front would have liked support on that scale.” Steve yawned again.
“Yes.” Diana began to feel a little sleepy herself. She was amused that Steve had turned to military history for his explanation.
“So the Germans thought we were excessively comfort-driven. They considered American soldiers ‘soft’. They were the better soldiers but citizen-soldiers can do pretty well.” Steve closed his eyes. “The Battle of the Bulge proved that. After the shock of realizing the Germans were attacking on a massive scale when they were thought to be defeated, our guys fought back in the coldest winter in living memory in Europe. So no going home for Christmas like they thought. The Germans had us reeling, but we held on and places like the stand at Bastogne delayed the Germans’ timetable. The weather turned, and the Army Air Force was back in business. Game over, at least for that battle.”
“Technological advantage.”
“You bet.” Steve tried to get comfortable. “But it wasn’t just technology, you know.”
“Oh?”
“Americans aren’t fond of military discipline. Commanders found that out to their chagrin from the Revolution on up to Normandy. Washington nearly pulled off his wig trying to command a bunch of very independent volunteers. It took the Polish General Casimir Pulaski to whip the soldiers into military shape.”
Diana thought about Amazon military training. Discipline was paramount. Volunteers with strong independent streaks could be problematic. She caressed Steve’s shoulder.
“And Civil War soldiers insisted on electing their officers. I’m sure European observers were astonished.”
“Did the independent spirit serve your people well during the Battle of the Bulge?”
“Most definitely. When our guys were cut off from their units in the chaos of the battle, they formed into small squads and carried out operations that harassed the enemy. They did the same in Korea against pitiless weather and terrain and the enemy. And…”
“And what?” Diana prompted as Steve was getting sleepier.
“American military tradition demands a hot Thanksgiving turkey dinner served to all the troops, even those on the front lines.” He smiled. “American excess again.”
Diana smiled. “Quite a logistical coup.”
“It was more than just the food, though a welcome break from C-rations.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm. It symbolized ‘home’, even in the snow in the Ardennes or some godforsaken hill in Korea.”
Steve drifted off to sleep. Diana smiled as he snored lightly.
She thought about the Veterans’ Day holiday observed only days ago. It was good to see Warriors honored by their people.
She pulled down the afghan from the back of the couch and draped it over both of them. She snuggled up to him.
Maybe the tryptophan is working on me, too.
She fell asleep, protecting and protected.
This story can also be read on AO3.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)