Hope at Dunkirk

10.

Harry lead Olivia down to the lower deck, even though she had been reluctant to be in the bottom of a ship/boat for the third time. Harry persisted and took a spot near the end of the stairs, plonking himself in between two other soldiers who were just as covered in oil as they were. He parted his legs and pulled Olivia to sit in between them, letting her rest back against his chest. Olivia felt her aching muscles relax in Harry's hold, and her mind suddenly rage about with all the quietness that allowed her to think.

No one spoke in the room, and no sound was heard out on deck besides the sound of the motor of the boat. Soldiers sat down in their own individual emotions. Relief. Anxiety. Fear. Guilt. Sadness. Anger. The air was thick with their unspoken words. Some were finally glad they were going home. Some were still terrified that another torpedo or a bomb would fly from a German plane. Some knew they had left people behind. And some were willing to pick up a riffle and shoot any enemy they saw without a thought.

Tommy, who sat in the corner of the room, looked up to meet eyes with Harry who sat in silence like the other soldiers. The French boy wasn't here, and they could only assume the rope that they tied him with had prevented his escape. They felt guilt. The boy who had a bullet planted into his eye socket wasn't here, leaving them to assume he drowned or burned like others. Harry blinked at Tommy, before remembering that he was so close to loosing the girl he loved in front of him. Latching his arms tightly around her small waist, he held her against him in order to ease some of his subconscious mind. He had changed during his time here. In some good ways, and many bad ways.

Olivia tried not to keep eye contact with any of the people in the room, knowing they didn't want to look at another face, wave, oil colour, bullet, plane, ship or beach for the time being. They'd never be the same. And they didn't even know if the civilian boats made it to the Dunkirk shores, saving thousands of British men who were stranded on French land. Olivia noticed the missing faces in the room, knowing the French boy wasn't here as well as the boy who lost his eye specifically.

She didn't want to cry, so she didn't. She made self-control become a priority in her mind, wanting to feel numb. She wasn't sure if she'd ever feel again, but she contradicted herself when she felt warmth. And love. Turning her head slightly to the side, she laid her cheek on Harry's chest and straining her eyes up to look at his distant face.

She admired his green eyes that were swimming with thought, taking notice of his long eye lashes that had a few coats of oil on them from the sea. She looked at his sharp jaw that was clenched, and his now black hair that fell forward on to his forehead. She noted how tight his grip was around her waist, making her feel at ease at this time of war. 

Up on deck, the middle-aged man who drove his sailing boat back to English shores heard the unmistakably sound of the returning enemy plane in the sky. It flew low, and had it's hatch open and ready to drop it's explosive weapon. It didn't take long for the sound to travel all through the boat, making the soldiers instinctively duck their heads low and use their arms to cover themselves. Harry leaned over in the slightest and covered Olivia's small frame with his own, unprepared to have her hurt or lost again.

"It's gonna be okay", she whispered in his hold as she could feel him shaking from fear. "Just hold you breath Harry, we'll be home soon".

"Steer us left when I tell you to!", the middle-aged man shouted to his son, the blonde boy who ran over to the steering mast and held on to it tightly. His heart leaped out of his chest with every beat when the plane continued to fly closer and closer, keeping his grip on the mast in preparation to steer it left.

"Steady boy", the man said, watching the plane closely as it just released it's bomb and it fell through the air and towards the boat. "NOW!".

The boy yanked right to make the boat turn away, the explosion almost too close as it hit the water and gave the boat and it's sailors no damage. The plane soon flew in the opposite direction, not bothering any longer with the small boat that they thought held no one important. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, the Air Force pilot asking about his sailing and deflecting techniques. The story that followed depressed the man, but said his son was in the army just like them. The blonde boy announced that he died two weeks into the war, making the pilot leave the subject as it was.

Everyone removed their arms from their heads, and Harry sat up and leaned back against the wall. He felt his heart racing and hoped that would be the last German plane he'd hear for the rest of his life. His eyes wondered down to Olivia who sat quietly, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms and safe in the non-sinking sailing boat.

"Do you want to lie down?", she asked him, already moving out of his hold to make room for him.

"No....", he whispered quietly, but Olivia moved anyway and pushed his shoulders down to lie on his back. The back of Harry's head settled on to the material of her dressed thighs, supplying more comfort than he'd felt in months. His long stretched legs thanked him for the laying position, as Olivia's fingers started to run through his greasy black hair.

"Just close your eyes for a little while", she suggested, seeing a dark shade in his usually green eyes.

"I can't, not yet", he answered back. He longed to be asleep, but couldn't bring himself to. Every time he blinked he was afraid she would be gone or he'd wake up back on the beach. He wanted to be conscious of this time, and wanted to spend every moment with the lady he'd learned to admire, appreciate and love.

"Just try".

And to her words, he tried to sleep. And for once, he didn't have to wait for something to happen. He slept in the pleasant feeling of having his love near.

He didn't have to wait.