No Sacrifice Too Great | COD WW2 Story

Stronghold: The Littlest Moments

I sit on my cot, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. Defeated tears fall from my eyes as I replay, over and over, what happened at the church. That's the only thing that I think about. Nothing else mattered, other than the fact I got touched during a crossfire. My thoughts get slightly interrupted as I hear Stiles and Aiello outside my tent.

-"Aiello, where's Zussman and Daniels?"

-"Beats me. They're probably out patrolling the area."

-"Right. Have you seen (l/n) anywhere?"

-"We're outside her tent, so she's probably listening to us, right now."

It's like he read my mind...

-"I'm gonna go and hit the smokes. You wanna join?"

-"Aiello, has it not been obvious to you that I do not smoke?"

-"You wanna try it?"

-"I'll let you figure that out on your own."

Aiello's footsteps fade, and I hear the tent open, and a weight next to me.

"(F/n), I know you said not to talk about it, but me and the others are worried about you." Stiles begins, and I wearily wipe my face, sitting straight up. I look into his eyes, and fix his glasses before they fall off his nose.

"It was terrible, Stiles. I can't even remove my uniform without feeling the handprints of the Nazi on my stomach. To think this war alone would give me unforgettable memories, but now that incident only adds to the trauma. I'm sorry about the way I acted back there. I was just so...furious." I explain, feeling myself about to breakdown again.

"It's okay. We're not mad at you." He replies softly.

"It ruined me, Drew. And to think that it'll stick with my for the rest of my life just-" my sadness cuts me off, and the breakdown begins. Stiles gently wraps his arms around me, and pulls my head into his chest, stroking my hair softly, attempting to calm me down.

"Shh. It's okay." He whispers, allowing me to break the dam of tears onto his uniform. I continue to sob and scream gently, until my arms throw themselves around Stiles' shoulders, pulling him in closer. He is surprised, but gathers himself to hold me tighter. His love overwhelms me. The love from all the boys overwhelms me.

I pull away, pushing my messy hair behind my ears, and wiping my face. I look into his eyes and see his expression had change from calm to upset, too.

"Look at what I did to you. You're practically going to cry with me." I laugh, and he laughs with me.

-"Don't make it tempting."

We both freeze as the tent opens again, Pierson strutting in and dropping a letter onto my lap.

"From your sister, Private." He says, and turns around to leave, but instead, pauses and turns back round to look at me. I hear him sigh, and he slowly makes his way back to my direction.

-"Stiles, give us a minute, will you?"

"Stiles, you can stay." I beg, holding his arm.

"It's an order, Private." He growls, and Stiles pats my back before leaving the tent. Pierson sets himself on the wooden, makeshift table in front of me, and clears his throat, evident he's a little shy.

"(L/n), I'm sorry about what happened. And I'm sorry about what I said. It was insensitive and definitely uncalled for. I had no place." He explains, and I'm shocked. Pierson never apologises for what he says. If he said it, he said it. That's what it was and that's how it is. It's almost as if he drank a magic potion from his canister that the "Angel Of All-things Good" prepared for him. I look up, and he's staring at the floor, bouncing his leg up and down.

-"Me too. I didn't mean any disrespect, Sergeant. We were under a lot of pressure."

He nods, still avoiding eye contact.

-"I was just worried about you. And the squad, too, but I was worried about you getting yourself hurt. This is a major distraction that could easily get you killed. If you wanna stay behind, and meet us at the next checkpoint, then do so."

I thought about it for a moment. This is my only chance to try and clear my thoughts, before I risk my life and get everyone killed. But they need me. I know they have many more soldiers, but I'm strong and capable. It's one person they lose, but we're stronger when we're together.

The one thing my father taught me is to never give up hope, no matter happens. Fight through it like a soldier, not a coward. Keep an eye out for the future instead of staying focused on the past. Wise words for a drunk alcoholic, but his wisdom never failed in our family.

"I appreciate the concern, Sir. But I would not be a soldier if I were to back down, even once. I made a promise to my family, to America, to the platoon and to myself that I'd continue to fight, no matter what stood in my way, and I am not willing to break that promise. I am coming with you, Sir. And I will fight through the problem. At least I got little time to think without any gunfire." I explain, and he finally gives me a look, and sighs heavily.

-"I like your courage, Private. Fine. If you wanna continue, you continue. Just shout for help if you need any."

-"Don't expect anything for me."

He chuckles lowly, and holds my clasped hands in his, the smile on his face slightly lighting the mood.

Pierson. Smiling. Never thought I'd see those two together.

"You're smiling." I tease, and the smile on his face only grows wider.

"Shocking, I know." He replies. He leaves his hands on mine for a little while, before standing up and making his way to the tent entrance.

"I'll give you some space. Briefing's in 20 minutes, so don't let up." He states and flashes me a soft look before leaving.

I have never seen this side of Pierson before. He was a bossy, insubordinate dickhead. I guess you just need to risk your life in order to bring this side out of him. I look down to the peachy coloured envelope on my lap, addressed as:

To my strong and capable sister.

How sweet. Carol actually bothered to write to me.

Carol is only 4 years older than me, and was totally against the idea of me being drafted. But she grew onto it, knowing that I'd make her and many people proud. People say we look like twins, only her hair's about three tones lighter than mine, and her eyes were a beautiful light blue, taken from our grandmother. She was a responsible woman, but still had no relationship. She claims that men are a luxury to her. Who does she think she is?

I tear open the letter and unfold the piece of paper inside, reading the contents:

Hey (f/n),

How you doing, doll? I hope you're not injured. If you are, best believe I'm getting high blood. You meet any handsome boys? Not that you'll have the time, but for me?
I waited to tell you until you got back because I didn't want to distract you. But, Paddison's Bakery has been bankrupted, and are closing down everything. We don't know what happened in detail yet, but I'll write to you once I find out. I'm really sorry, sugar. I hope this won't worry you while you're there. Please don't worry about it and we'll sort something out once you get back.
I love and miss you, my baby sister. I'm so proud of you. Write to me when you have the time.

Love, Carol.

My bakery...it's gone. All my hard work and memories. My efforts, wasted.

I let the news sink in a little. This week has not been the best.

I guess...I'll just have to push through it. There's nothing I can do. Remember, (f/n). Take it like a soldier, and not a coward.

I promised. Many people.