The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-33-

"All right, listen up.  We've got some kraut 88s up ahead, right through these gardens.  They're planted between us and causeway number two, firing at the troops landing on Utah.  We need to take them out before they kill everyone on that beach.  Think you boys can handle that?"

Delta Company stands huddled around General Armstrong as he shows us a map of the area, pointing exactly where we need to go.  I have no idea why he wants us to take care of the problem, considering we're all fairly new recruits and have never experienced a real battle, but what can we do?  We have no choice but to agree to his plans, no matter how terrifying they seem.

"Good,"  General Armstrong continues, his hands firmly planted on his hips.  "'Cause my guess is they're doing some pretty catastrophic damage up there.  They've been spotted in a field a few hundred yards down the road, and from what I've heard from the other generals, there are two guns firing down on Utah, maybe more.  I want you boys to take them out."

Great.  This has disaster written all over it.  My stomach is already churning with stress as he speaks.

"Now, the Germans are in the trenches, and they have access to the entire battery."  General Armstrong draws a rough outline of the trenches on the map, routing out where he wants us to go.  "They have machine gun cover in the rear, too, so what I want you to do is establish a base of fire and move under it hard and fast.  Take them out as quickly as you possibly can."

I can barely hear him over the blood roaring in my ears.  This is a recipe for calamity, and even something as simple as his drawing makes my skin prickle with terrified goosebumps.  We're not ready to be tossed into a real battle, with real deadly consequences.  We just got here, for God's sake.  How does he expect us to walk out of this unscathed?

Then again, I guess it's all part of the job description.  Follow orders and hope we make it out alive, or die trying.

"Bring TNT along with you to spike the guns,"  General Armstrong goes on, disrupting my train of thought.  "I'll leave the decision of who's in charge of it up to you.  You all know each other much better than me."

I exchange an anxious glance with Mikey; he only crosses his arms over his chest with an unsteady sigh.  None of us should be trusted with explosives, and I fear for the poor soul who ends up being in charge of it.  There's no way something like this can end well.

Then, General Armstrong sets the map down on a nearby table before turning to face us, his arms crossed behind his back.  "Speaking of, that brings me to my next point.  Your drill sergeant told me a bit about each of your strong suits, and he gave me some recommendations for who to assign as the leaders of Delta.  They'll be in charge of the company when a higher commander isn't around."

Oh God, don't say my name.  Please don't say my name.  Please, for the love of Christ, don't say my name.

"Private Iero, will you join me up here?"

Oh, thank God.  For a second I thought--

"And Private Gerard Way."

Fuck.

Frank flashes me a smile as he moves to join General Armstrong at the front of the group.  Why are there two leaders?  We only need one, and Frank's much better off than me.  I thought we made that clear during the whole Capture the Flag ordeal.  He's the leader.  I'm not.

I guess I don't have a choice, though, huh?

Wonderful.  Absolutely wonderful.

"All right, boys,"  General Armstrong says as I hesitantly join them.  This is the worst day ever.  "Assign your comrades.  TNT, cover fire, rushing squads.  Up to you."