Hill 493: Grief and Guilt

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"Lieutenant!" I cry, Turner collapsing on top of me. My eyes dart to a Kraut in an intimidating, black long coat, who jumps off the Tiger, a pistol in his hand. He slowly starts to curse to us in German.

"You Americans think you've out-gunned us? I'll give you fucking hell. Let me give you fucking hell!"

He begins to cock and reload his pistol, with us having nothing at hand. As I blink, the Kraut grunts, his blood splattering onto my face, and he crashes onto the ground in front of us. I turn around and see Daniels, running up to us and firing one more bullet into his head, granting him death.

I carefully crawl out from beneath Turner, and turn him around, the blood on his uniform filling me with more panic.

-"Shit! Oh shit!" 

Turner cries out in pain, holding his wound as hard as he can. I limp behind him and try to drag him to safety, but I struggle too as my leg doesn't seem to want to help me. Instead, Daniels takes him, and we pull to cover behind a stack of sacks. I lean against the stack and haul Turner onto my lap, my right hand on his wound.

"Turner! I'm sorry!" I cry.

"It's okay, Private! I'm just...doing my job." He winces in the sentence, and my heart cracks and breaks into a thousand pieces.

Pierson soon runs, and then Zussman.

"Lieutenant!" He yells, covering fire for us.

"You gotta get our soldiers out of here!" Turner orders to Pierson, who grips onto his shoulder, his hope beginning to deteriorate.

"No, we can still make it!" Pierson encourages, the hopelessness evident in his voice.

"You have to- you have to retreat- ah!" Turner groans at the pain. I begin to feels tears fall down from my eyes, guilt rushing through me.

"No, I ain't leaving you here." Pierson continues to protest. Turner hands him his gun and he reloads it quickly.

"Get me up, and I'll hold 'em off!" Turner demands, all of us growing silent.

He's really going to sacrifice himself...for us.

-"You have to go! Go!"

I embrace him tighter, resting my head against his.

"Lieutenant, we're not worth it!" I argue. He takes his hand and holds my face in his palm, his pain-filled eyes staring into mine.

"You're always worth it." He says softly. I shake my head, refusing to fight back tears, and letting go of Turner.

"It was an honour..." Pierson says, choking up a little. Turner takes back his gun, and my anxiety kicks in.

"No sacrifice too great." Turner reiterates.

"Turner, I'll cover for the both of us!" I suggest, but he doesn't listen.

-"No. They need you, too. I'm not gonna make it."

-"If it's the two of us holding them back, we'll both make it!"

-"Pierson! Take her!"

"Fall back!" Pierson demands. He and Daniels begin to take me by the arms and slide me from under Turner, forcing me onto my feet and pulling me back. I flail and kick at them to let me go, but they're grip is too strong.

-"Lieutenant! No!"

"I said fall back, goddamnit!" Pierson yells, his strength on me tightening.

I shout and protest as loud and hard as I could, but we retreat, the distance between us and Turner increasing.

He gets up onto both feet, and begins to fire at the Krauts, but he's outnumbered, and takes a bullet to the shoulder. He collapses onto one knee, and he looks at me, a blank expression on his face, and another fire of another bullet, but this time, into his chest. He falls onto the ground, lifeless.

I shout. I scream. I cry. But it's no use. This pain will never subside. I continue to watch as the rain begins to drown his body, the mud slowly eating him up.

"NOO!!"

__

We're at camp. I'm alone in my tent, the rain drumming on the top. My leg is pulled up against my chest, while my injured leg hangs limp off the edge of my cot. My arms rest upon my knee and my head is fitted on top of my forearms. Tears stream down my face, and my nose clogs up from all the crying.

We've...lost Turner.

It was too chaotic back there, but it drains the blood out of me now, knowing he's died with honour by saving us, but will never be leading us again. I take a glimpse of my watch, and see it's almost 10:30pm. I don't know where the boys went, and honestly, I couldn't care less.

Speaking of the fucking devil, Zussman comes into my tent, a limping Aiello following behind him, then Daniels, then Stiles, all of their eyes on me.

"Hey. You missed supper." Zussman starts. I've lost my appetite since that moment.

"Not hungry." I respond blankly, no emotion in my voice whatsoever. They plant themselves around me, Zussman and Aiello on my cot and Daniels and Stiles on the floor in front. I avoid all their faces. I don't want any pity. Any sympathy. I just want Turner back, a useless thing to ask.

"We understand you're upset. Turner's death has hit us too hard, (l/n)." Aiello adds, his voice low and quiet.

I feel myself beginning to break, and I turn my head inwards, hiding away from the boys as I begin to choke up.

"It's all my fault..." I manage to say as gracefully as I could. I feel Zussman's hand on my back, rubbing softly and gently, but the comfort of him doesn't calm me down.

-"I should've been more careful. I should've fell straight into the bunkers once it exploded. He shouldn't of needed to help me if I wasn't being a...a pussy!" 

I admit it. I was a pussy back there. I'm ashamed. I'm guilty!

"No. It's no one's fault. He died with honour, and that's all a man could ask off a soldier." Stiles says, fixing his glasses with a sad sniff.

"That makes no difference. At the end of the day, he died trying to save me first. He was going to help me up, but got a bullet to the fucking stomach instead." I curse, more guilt-tears falling. The boys are silent, obviously at a loss for words. Our attention suddenly averts to the tent entrance, where Pierson marches in, his aura altering the sad atmosphere to a tense one.

"Wipe those tears, (l/n). From now on, you're my second." He announces. I'm furious about it, but I don't have energy to show it.

-"That means you'll be fighting alongside me in my world. That's right. My world. So my world, my rules. And you will support me one thousand percent. Make damn certain that all those men do the same. Anything less I will consider a dereliction. You better get your game up, Private, because starting tomorrow, I can't have you at your lowest grade. Pick it up, or I'm sending you home."

And with that, he struts out the room.

"Son of a bitch." I curse, and I stand up, ready to go after him, but the boys hold me back, and force me back onto my cot.

Me. Corporal. Has he seen me in battle? Has he seen what happened to me? Does he realise how much of a shitty mistake he's making? Why me, of all the other soldiers in this squad?

"Son of a bitch." I reiterate a little louder than before.

"We're under Pierson's wings." Daniels announces.

"We're never going to get home." I mumble, and the boys fall silent once again.

I can't explain how consumed I am in my depression. I don't know if this is the process for grief, or for guilt. We've just lost Turner, and that's not something that's gonna rub off on us until years and years to come. I don't know how I'm going to move on, knowing our protector is gone. But if Pierson's promoting me, then I gotta do my best. Not for me. Not for him. But for Turner. Only...for Turner.

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