If there's one thing I never pictured myself doing, it's sitting in a cramped ditch in the middle of nowhere, completely shoulder-to-shoulder with my comrades, as we wait for instructions to move out.
Claustrophobia is a bitch, isn't it?
Thankfully, our drop into Holland was a silent success. No one ambushed us as we landed in a barren field, rushing to gather our gear and move to our first location. We never saw any enemies along the way, either, and now, as we sit in uneasy silence, I can't help but fear that our luck may soon run out.
It's far too quiet around here for my liking.
It's strange, being back out in the action. We've been so accustomed to sitting around and waiting for something to happen that the unruly adrenaline pumping through my veins seems foreign. I haven't experienced fear like this since June, and believe me when I say I didn't miss it at all.
My head snaps up when I see someone move from down the line, but it's only Brendon. He snakes his way through the tangled mass of legs and bodies to reach the rest of Delta, a smug grin plastered on his face as he shakes whatever is in his hands.
Why am I not surprised to see that it's a bottle of alcohol?
Plopping down on the grass beside Ryan and Spencer, Brendon eagerly shows us the dusty bottle, the golden liquid glinting in the bright sunlight. "Guys," he says with a content sigh, "I think I'm in love with Holland."
"Where the hell did you get that?" Frank questions, a perplexed frown adorning his face.
Brendon nods at a large barn in the near distance as he works to uncap the bottle. "In that old barn over there," he replies. "They were just sitting out. It's like they were expecting us or something."
"And you didn't bring back any for the rest of us?" Pete scoffs, his hand over his chest in mock offense. Although, I seriously doubt he's faking his distress over that fact. "I can't believe you."
Brendon merely shrugs his shoulders, nonchalantly taking a long swig of the unnamed alcohol. Leave it to him to abandon the company and return with nothing but a bottle of booze.
Then, more movement from down the crowded ditch catches my eye. Craning my neck to see over the rest of my company, I spot Dan stumbling over the swarm of legs as he tries to get closer to us, his gear bouncing against his back as he staggers onward.
"There's some kind of holdup ahead," he informs us, nodding at the dirt road above the ditch. "I've been told we're going through this field over here."
Exchanging a glance with the rest of my company, we all gather our gear and rise to our feet, trying our best not to stumble over anybody as we leave the cramped ditch.
Then we move out.
* * * * *
Night falls long before we have a chance to reach the bridges. Stars twinkle in the inky black sky above, shining through a thin layer of dark clouds. The moon is nothing but a sliver of pure white in the blanket of darkness, and although it doesn't provide much light, something about its presence is oddly soothing.
Here's to a chilly night of sleeping under the stars.
We make camp outside a small town, but this time, much to our surprise, it's occupied with citizens. We'd passed through the old streets on our way to the outskirts, and we were quickly bombarded with relieved and overjoyed cheers and hugs from the people of the town. They even threw an impromptu parade for us because they were so ecstatic about our arrival. It was strange, but it was easily one of the sweetest and most uplifting things I've ever experienced.
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The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|
Фанфик"You are never coming home." * * * There are some days in life you'll never forget. Your first date, perhaps, or even your first kiss. Maybe even your first experience with death, because not all of these days have to be good. Some of these day...