Warzone {Dunkirk H.S.}

7: The Beach

They sat, in the middle of the beach, the surrounding sea as desolate as their minds. Gwen pulled her knees to her chest and finally felt the weight of everything slowly start to descend upon her. She had pushed it to the back of her mind and walled it off because really, she did not know how to deal with it. They were in Dunkirk. Really there. Not just in a boat off the shore, safely waiting – they were on the very beach, stranded, surrounding by strangers and worse, enemies. They were suddenly in the same situation as any other soldier, lost and terrified. For Harry and Tommy, that was not new, they were soldiers, they had been living in the nightmare for long enough, everything just blended together into a mush of the same cycle of events. But that did not mean that it didn't affect them still, they were just better at handling it. Harry was, at least, Tommy had already seen the detrimental effects the war was having on him, and he was determined to try his best to repress them.

Gwen stared at the wet sand beneath her, and dug her hands into it, hoping the odd feeling of the cool sand lacing through her fingers would soothe her, yet it did not, only unsettled her further, reminded her that she was not where she was supposed to be, reminded her of her crippling fear and doubt – she knew that if anything happened to anyone, she would somehow feel responsible, when the truth was that it was their foreign enemies who would be held accountable. Vivian had been trying to speak to her but it floated past her ears. She stared blankly at her hands, breathing deeply. It was like she constantly had to remind herself to breathe. Tommy was dead silent, yet his heart raced on in his chest and his brain begged him to say something, he still had so many unanswered questions. But he knew that Vivian and Gwen where no where near recovered enough to answer them, much less maybe even speak. Harry was, maybe, but when Tommy looked at him his eyes were trained on Gwen and it was as if he was not going to pay attention to anything but her, so he stayed quiet, thinking to himself. He could not imagine how the girls would be feeling, though at the same time he could – he presumed that they must have been feeling the same way he felt after his first experience with a bomb strike when he was first thrust into the war – like a lost child, surrounded by unfamiliarity and crushed beneath their anxieties and fears. He shifted so that he was sitting next to Gwen, and gently placed a hand on top of hers, and she stopped moving her hands about in the sand. She seemed to let out a breath she did not know she was holding, and stared down at their hands.

"Gwen, I just want to say I'm s-," Tommy began, his voice soft, as if he spoke too loudly she would shatter like glass. She still looked to be on the verge of tears. But then it seemed like she suddenly snapped out of it, she sucked in a breath and shook her head to cut him off.

"Shh. I know. Don't say it. It's okay. Talk about something else. Anything else. Distract me. Please," Her voice was barely a whisper and she squeezed her eyes shut, like she was trying to envision herself in a better place. Tommy remembered the countless times he had done the exact same thing, and usually he had imagined himself back home in Dorset – with her. He felt a sense of comfort at the fact that she was here with him finally, despite the aching guilt in his heart; it was because of him she, too, was trapped in the horrible beach.

Harry was looking at Gwen, like he wanted to say something but he was not sure what. His eyes flickered over to Tommy, desperate, begging for him to do something. It was clear he hated seeing Gwen the way she was, yet he was too unsure to do anything himself. Tommy quickly launched into thought and racked his brain, searching for something positive to say so that he could distract her from the pain of her worries.

"Harry used to be a baker," Tommy suddenly blurted, it being the only thing that came to mind, the reasons unclear. Vivian looked up at that, and Harry stiffened, turning his gaze to Tommy. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrow, and Tommy fought the smile he felt coming on. He enjoyed teasing Harry – he knew he did not talk about his 'baker past' a lot, and he had only mentioned it to Tommy once; he was apparently horrible at baking anything other than white bread and did not want people thinking he could make things for them. Gwen looked at Harry, growing amused.