" I will be waiting for you on the other side of the frozen pines. " E. Roe x Oc

𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐞

1741 words.

Edit: grammar, spelling, chapter song.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The town of Bastogne was once a beautiful village. The people gathered for music and celebrations, weddings and birthdays. When looking at its streets now, one could only see the sorrow that seemed to emit from its empty streets. I walk in slightly melted snow, it sloshes around my boots and gets under the laces, soaking my socks and feet below them. I would certainly pay the price of frostbite if I didn't make it back soon. It had been nearly a week since the last snowfall, but the clouds threatened a stormy future. Last time a storm marred the town, it took half of the buildings with it, on top of the German attacks. The town also lacked shelter; houses had been destroyed by shelling and artillery fire. Renee was actually a resident here, she volunteered for the job of assisting the nurses and soldiers, sometimes she would tell us stories of the bakery at the end of the street or the rude foreigners who came to visit. This, however, was a rare conversation point, as we hardly had any time to speak to each other.

All me and Charlotte had to do was clear the street, and we weren't the only people doing so. Soldiers and airmen alike, no matter their nationality all came together to assist in light cleanup. I picked up a large piece of lumber by one end and shoved it to the side of the road, dusting my hands.

You'd think they would have parked the jeeps elsewhere, using the town for walking about. We needn't clear the entire street, just the way to the "hospital" right?

"The Americans are here! The Americans have arrived!" I heard a soldier holler from far ahead, he was waving his arms like he was trying to get the attention of a plane.

I stepped off the street, boots scraping across cobblestone. Church. Not soon after that I could hear the faint rumbling of jeeps and cheers, the Americans had a long awaited arrival, people spoke of their bravery and determination, as if a single platoon of the men could stop the war. Of course I knew better; most of them were just boys, no older than myself. Youngest of them would be eighteen, however it wasn't too complicated or rare that they would lie about their age just to get a taste of war. I didn't have to lie about my age. I sat at a comfortable twenty-three years old - which was young enough to be called sweetheart but not yet old enough to be labeled as a lady, which wasn't something I was fond of.

When the first jeep passed me I caught a familiar burning sensation in my lungs and nose; diesel fuel. My parents had used it to fuel their tractors, when I was young - If I caught even the slightest scent of diesel, I knew that my father would let me ride on the tractor — it was a special treat.

The next car passed, this one had an open roof which showed off all the men who had been riding in the bed. I heard a whistle from one of them, he had a particularly large nose and looked like he was freezing to death. I simply looked at him and raised my eyebrows, he must have thought I was surprised but I honestly just wanted to give him a "Don't try" look. He seemed satisfied and took a breath of his smoke. His car continued out of view.

Jeep after jeep after jeep, then finally they stopped coming into Bastogne. Half of me was relieved that they had finally stopped arriving, how would we feed each of them? How would we tend to them? Whilst the other half of me tumbled and flew like a hurricane of worry. Worry that we hadn't gotten enough reinforcements - worry that the damp town of Bastogne would be my final resting place. Snow had begun to fall from the sky in small flurries. Flakes landed on my eyelashes and strands of my hair, like something you would see in a movie. I sent a silent prayer to the sky that the fresh snow would hide the town's rugged ruins.

Shoving my fingers into my pockets, I began back towards the hospital. Surely the medics and surgeons would want different medical supplies. The other girls likely would have trouble breaking the news of the low supplies, so I had to be there to be the stern hand for them.