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The Call of Duty (Autumn x Alkaline)

Alkaline

Alkaline

Super-Earth
Joined
Jan 15, 2009
Brian coughed softly as he hunkered down in the little outpost, his eyes gazing over the wreckage of what was left of Berlin. It may have just been over a year and a half since he'd been drafted, but he sure had picked a good time to join up. He's been there for just about everything. The storming of Normandy, the liberation of Paris, and now the fall of Berlin. Still, he was happy that the Soviets had taken care of the majority of the work. It had been one hell of a battle, but to finally have it conquered, to have defeated the Nazi regime... It was relieving.

With a sigh, Brian slowly sat back again and dug through his stuff until he found a cigarette, lighting it up before beginning to pace back and forth again at his post. He was a tall boy, just over 6 feet tall, with dark brown hair, and light, honey brown eyes. His whole appearance was rather rugged though, mostly due to the extreme conditions they'd been put through. His hair hadn't been cut in months now, and fell just to his eyes, and he had a scruffy, short beard just visible on his cheeks. Brian wore the typical army fatigues, and a helmet that sat rather loosely on his head. On it was scribbled a few obscenities, mostly by the other men in the troop, and what appeared to be a few dark patches of dried blood. He carried an M16 strapped over his shoulder as well, and a German Lugar tucked under his belt which he'd picked up when the fighting had finally subsided on D-Day. He'd been convinced it was good luck, and made sure to keep it close by at all times as well.

Despite the calm in the storm, Brian was growing rather anxious. Just standing around and waiting for what seemed to be a rather impossible counter strike bored the hell out of him. Either send him to the Pacific, or let him go home, he thought. With a sigh though, he readjusted the rifle and turned back, suddenly seeing a young girl coming down the road. "Fuck... fuck..." he muttered under his breath as he tossed the cigarette back to the ground and stomped it out. Rubbing his face off with his sleeve, he tried to get the grime off, and finally turned back towards her as she neared, standing straight and put on his best smile. Everyone else seemed to be conquering the foreign ladies as they made their way across Europe. Why couldn't he at least have one little tussle in the sack, he thought? He'd held out for so long because he assumed that Jenny would be waiting back home for him. Of course, her last letter said something decidedly different. He couldn't let that get to him though, and just put on his best American smile as he leaned against the outpost.

"Hello Ma'am. What can I help you with?" he said with confidence, his hand reaching up to straighten his helmet a bit frantically as he looked into her eyes.
 
Elise Schlink had been born to middle-class parents who ran a successful bakery in Berlin. She was the eldest of two daughters, having just turned the tender age of twenty. Her family lived comfortably in an apartment above their bakery. That was, until the war caught up with them. In the blink of an eye, their world had been turned upside down. Germany was ripped apart by a madman, hardly anyone safe from his fury and destruction. Many of her friends had been murdered simply because their hair was dark, their last names were foreign, or their religion didn't fit into his views.

The fall of Berlin held extreme significance as it was also the end of the life she had known. Her family's business was destroyed, leaving them in poverty. Her parents could no longer afford to support two daughters, thus Elise was reluctantly forced out of her home. As nothing short of a miracle would have it, an elderly couple and their son ran a general store that agreed to supply to the American troops. They took Elise in, giving her shelter in a one-roomed flat situated above the store. She worked as a delivery girl, and though the pay was not much, she had a roof and a small source of income that was sent to her parents and sister.

Just before closing, the old woman received a request for bread and potatoes. Normally, she would ask her son to make the bigger deliveries, but he was already at another location. "Elise, you take ze goods to ze Americans, ja." She stated in broken English, a language that everyone she knew was trying to learn. Emerging from behind the counter was a young woman in a yellow dress that fell to the calves of her shapely legs. Flaxen hair fell to her shoulders, strands glittering from the fading rays of sun shining in through the window. Dark brown eyes peered through long, chocolate lashes set upon a striking face with an elegant bone structure. She was around 5' 7" in height and thin in frame, though she was quite healthy.

She picked up the sack of potatoes and the bag of bread, kissing the woman on the cheek. Only offering a smile as a response, she walked out the front door and mounted an old bike she borrowed from the owners' son. Legs pedaled down the road, passing out of the city and to the base camp of the troops. It was hard to balance the bike with the potatoes heavily tipping it in the basket and the bread hanging off the handlebars so she was extremely grateful when she approached the gate.

Every German girl feared everyone else, whether they were native or foreign. She was cautious when she reached him, terrified of his gun. "Hallo." She spoke quietly, her foot propping into the dirt to stop the bicycle. Getting off of it, she pushed out the kickstand. The bag of bread was slung onto her shoulder as her arms lifted of the heavy sack of vegetables. "I have your. . . bread and ze. . . " She couldn't remember the word for potatoes so she held them out to him. "Delivery." She spoke, her accent thick.
 
Brian couldn't help but smile as the girl skidded to a stop. He could tell she was nervous though, just like they all were at first. Of course, he couldn't really blame her. They'd come in and torn their city to shreds, killing more than a few innocent civilians along the way. Still, at least they wouldn't fear death as much, or so he figured. While they may not have been the most polite group, they wouldn't kill due to religion or race.

The boy simply smiled though as he watched the girl climb off the bike, before suddenly shaking his head and looking back over to the supplies. "Oh, umm... please let me help you with those!" he said, quickly grabbing his rifle and setting it to the side, although the rather careless movement would have certainly startled more than a few people. Before she could even protest though, he was jumping over the barricade and taking the potatoes from her arms. "You managed to get these here by yourself?" he said, obviously trying to make conversation just a little bit as he carried them in his arms.

As he looked over the beautiful girl, he couldn't help but smile a bit more as he pulled the bag in tight to his chest. She hid the pain well, and had it been any other city, he would have assumed she was the happiest girl in the world. Of course, he knew better than that, and finally looked forward as he turned to face the camp. "Come on, let me show you where to bring these," he said, this time a bit quieter as he brushed his arm against hers, tilting his head a bit and motioning down the road a bit.
 
When the gun was set down, Elise jumped, her heart skipping in her chest. His eagerness created anxiety, mostly because she didn't understand everything he was saying to her. She tried to focus her dark eyes on his face, to discern his intentions and his character. When he took the potatoes from her, she gave him a shy smile. Head tilted downward, fingers lifting to tuck her straight hair behind her ear. "I bring you um big-," she paused, her arms extending to show a wide gape, "big. . . ger supplies, but truck is with son."

She appreciated his attempts for conversation, but the crease in her brow indicated she didn't understand how quickly he was speaking. With the bag of bread on her shoulder, she smoothed her hands through her wind-blown hair and down her canary-yellow dress. "It's okay if I leave bicycle here, da?" She motioned to the bike, hoping he could decipher what she meant. Her mind processed her own thoughts, wanting desperately to speak to him in her native tongue.

"I make deliveries by myself because only son work for ze. . . owners. Is only me and no drive automobile." She stood next to him, eyes lingering on her bike. She didn't trust the Americans, no matter what good they were trying to do. They were from a big and powerful nation, and every man in that camp could harm her if he wanted and no one would care. She was hesitant to enter, her head shaking. She looked back at him, slight fear in her eyes.
 
The soldier smiled softly, as he saw the girl jump a bit, glancing back towards the gun and holding out his hands just a bit as he shook his head quickly. "I'm sorry... I didn't..." he said softly with a sigh before realizing the girl was probably lost. He had a tendency to speak quickly no matter what, yet for someone who could barely understand the basics, it must have seemed like a blur. Still, he smiled when he saw her nervously look towards the ground, and reached up to take his helmet off, his fingers brushing through his long hair a bit in a attempt to make it look a little more respectable.

When her soft voice broke free again, he couldn't help but smile more as he watched her motion the words out as well. Nodding quickly, he leaned back against the barricade and tried to encourage her. "Well, we're more than happy to have these," he said, patting the bag and giving a thumbs up. "Thank you, very much," he said softly. Scrunching his nose up a bit, he took a quick peek inside, smiling again as he saw the fresh food. It would be nice to have something other then the army supplied rations for once, even if it was something as simply as a potato.

Brian turned around after taking a few steps, and bit his lip when he saw the girl shaking her head nervously. He'd heard those stories as well. When you get a few men together, especially when they've been through hell and back, they'd do just about anything to get a little bit of pleasure. Still, he wouldn't let her think that these men were going to be like that. Or at least not him. "It'll be okay... I'll protect you," he said softly, biting his lip as he tried to think of a way to explain it. Setting down the bag though, he took the girls bike and lifted it over the barricade. Scrambling around a bit, he finally found a tarp to cover it with. "There... now... Umm. No one knows the bicycle is there but you and me," he said, pointing back and forth between the two of them. Slowly he turned and picked up the bag again, this time staying close as he reached out and gently took a few of her fingers in his own hand, tugging on them just a bit before tilting his head towards the camp. "It'll be okay, I promise."
 
This American soldier didn't know how devastating this war was. Sure, he'd probably seen the line of fire, maybe even witnessed or caused people to die. But, he was a foreigner in her native land. He didn't know what it was like to have his home destroyed or his family ruined by the spoils of a war in which they had no involvement. Her life centered around constant fear and instability, never knowing when what moment could be her last. Other German girls in her age group whose lives had taken a similar turn were eager to mingle with the troops, hoping that just one of them would take enough interest in her to protect her. Elise wasn't like that. She was built on morals and faith, even when her country seemed to have none left.

She understood his words and though she could find nothing in his demeanor that alarmed her, she simply wasn't that trusting. When he lifted her bike, she threw out her hands to protest. "Stop, please!" She called out, though she quickly realized he was only trying to prevent it from being stolen. "Oh. . . thank you."

When he took her hand, she had no choice but to let him. Still carrying the bread, she stayed close to him. "Geld?" She asked, realizing she'd spoke in German. "Money? Who have money for me to take to store?" It was, after all, a business transaction and the profits gained by the store ensured that her family could eat another week.

To make conversation, she nodded her head toward the gun. "You use gun often?" Eyes fell on his uniform, searching for a name badge. If she knew his name, she would feel calmer somehow, linking him as a person and not just a soldier.
 
Brian let his fingers softly interlace with the girls for just a moment before letting it slowly slip away, his eyes turned ahead. He'd felt a little bit bad about the sudden reaction he'd gotten out of her, but when she caught on to the fact that he was just trying to help, he smiled and gave her a little wink. "It'll be safe," he said softly before turning back towards camp. Walking slowly, he waited for her to catch back up to his side before answering the next question.

"Our sergeant will have the money for you, I'll make sure he gets it before you leave too," Brian said softly, his eyes turning back to the girl as he watched her follow along. When she mentioned the gun, however, he bit his lip and hesitated, his eyes kind of searching over the girl again as he tried to figure out whether or not the truth was something he should even tell her. After a few seconds, he finally looked back towards the ground and tightened his grip on the bag. "Ummm, yes I have. More than I'd like to admit," he said, his voice rather quiet though as it seemed to be something he'd rather not speak about too much.

Eager to change the subject up, he turned back to the girl and smiled his best. He caught her glancing over his uniform just a bit, and figured she must have been looking for his name. "Oh, I'm Brian by the way. What's your name?" he asked as he readjusted his bag and gun a bit, his arm draped across his chest as well. Biting his lip again, he kind of glanced towards the girl for a moment. "Do... umm... You have a safe home still?" he asked, knowing it was a rather awkward question for small talk, but wanting to try and pry a little more information about her life out of her. It never hurt to try and understand what they were going through at the least.
 
Elise felt his hand slip from hers, taking with it the warmth the touch had offered. Slightly uncomfortable about entering the camp, she let him lead a few steps. She stood behind, standing in the breeze as it blew her hair and dress forward, almost as if it were urging her to follow him. When she heard him reply in regards to the payment owed to the store, she took her steps behind him. Her long legs carried her on a graceful stride, allowing her to easily take her place at his side.

His admittance of using his weapon silenced her. Eyes dropped to the ground, staring at the dirt as he spoke. She wondered how much innocent blood was stained on his hands. Had he murdered any of her friends or their families? How many children did he take from mothers or how many mothers did he take from children? Truthfully, she didn't want to know. He was doing his job, pledging his allegiance to his country no matter how much that destroyed hers. Ah, the Land of the Free, but at what cost?

He broke the awkwardness between them by giving her his name. "Brian." She smiled, extending her hand to him in formal greeting. "I'm Elise." Eyes looked forward, watching where they were headed. When he inquired as to her safety, she never let her gaze avert to his face, wanting to hide the pain behind it. "I. . . yes. I live with ze owners of general store. My parents owned a sweet. . . what is word?" She paused, trying to remember. "Bakery, but it's gone now. They lost our home and could not afford my little sister and me. So I had to leave. I work in store to earn money to give them."
 
As the boy listened to Elise's story, he sighed and softly bit his lip as he looked towards the ground. "Wow, I'm really sorry about that..." he said quietly, his fingers kind of playing with the strap of his gun absentmindedly as he thought about the consequences the war had on her country. While America wasn't totally at a loss, they only experienced a soldier casualties since the attack on Pearl Harbor. However, those living in Europe had been subjected to much more. Civilian deaths were far from uncommon, and those who did live through it weren't even guaranteed to have a home standing when everything settled back down.

Turning to face her, he finally dug into his pocket a bit, searching for any sort of money he'd been able to get a hold of, and reached over, taking the girls wrist gently as he placed the wadded up paper into it. "This... isn't for the food. Just take it, okay? I don't need it," he said softly, his hand pulling back quickly before she could even reject it. Quickening his pace a bit, he took another deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. While he knew that what he had done was still helpful, he knew he'd never be able to shake the images of what he and his fellow soldiers had done. At the least he could fill a little peace knowing that he could help these people by giving whatever he had.

As they approached the camp, one of the soldiers came over to question who it was that the boy brought into camp. "Umm, she has a delivery sir," Brian said, saluting and standing straight as he did. "She just needs to see the sergeant, sir," he said as the man scoped her out a bit before finally waving them by and telling him where he was located.
 
When he started reaching into his pockets in search of something, she furrowed her brow into a hard line. His fingers wrapped almost wholly around her thin wrist, the movement causing her to withdraw back from him. However, he showed no hostility, simply pushing crinkled paper into her palm. He walked away from her, leaving her there to stare at her hand. She glanced from the money to him, back to the money, and finally at him again. Did he feel guilty for his Patriotic duty or responsible for the things that had happened to her and her family? Did he think giving some of what he had somehow made him more of a Saint and earned him forgiveness for participating in the bloodshed in Germany?

Elise wasn't a charity case; she earned everything she could for her family herself. Sure, she was a little headstrong but she trusted no one, especially not an American soldier no matter how polite he had been to her. Catching up to him, she boldly pushed the money back into his pocket. "Thank you." She said firmly. "That is kind of you, but I don't need it." Shifting the bread uncomfortably, she watched as another soldier approached them.

Elise felt like some wild rodent in the middle of a pack of dogs. It was like they were all sniffing her out, protecting their territory when they were the ones invading her land. She didn't like the hungry looks on their faces, as if at any moment one of them one strike. She held up the bag of bread for them to see, but she dared not speak unless directly spoken to.
 
Brian bit his lip as he felt her shove the paper back into his pocket. Once he'd finished with the man though, he turned back and looked her over. "Look, I don't have any use for it anyways. Just take it, please? It'll make me feel better," he said with a weak smile his fingers shoving the cash back into her hand again. "You can... give it away or something if you want. Please just take it from me," he said as he turned again this time making sure she wasn't right behind him so he could avoid getting it back again.

Turning around after a little bit, he motioned the girl forward again, and tilted his head towards a medical tent. "It's... not pretty in there. If you want, I can talk to him and bring the money out if you want to just stay here..." he said as he bit his lip, then just turned in without waiting for a response. Walking past the rows of injured and dying men, the boy tried his best just to put the images at the back of his mind. The groans alone are enough to rattle him just a bit though, but as the sergeant looked up, he saluted again quickly.

"Sir, the food rations have arrived from the town. Do we have a payment for the supplies?" he asks quickly, his eyes still dead ahead as he pulled his hand back to his side.
 
He was as stubborn as she and proving to be as arrogant as the reputation for the Americans stated. She would have thrown the money back at his head if it hadn't been for the other men standing around her. No, they would have laughed and thought her less of a lady, the motions insinuating that Brian had tried to be more than just friendly with her. No, she wouldn't dare let herself be belittled in that manner. Exhaling sharply, she wadded up the money and shoved it deep into her dress pocket.

Though Elise did not want to see the injuries of war, she would be brave and follow him. In a way, it relieved her to know that people on his side were wounded, too. Not that she ever wanted anyone to be hurt, but these men came here looking for trouble. The citizens of her beloved country had no choice but to be subjected to these manners of violence. Though taking heed to his warning, she was not prepared for what she saw when she entered the tent. The overwhelming stench of blood assaulted her nose and the sights of mutilation made her queasy.

By the time she caught up with them, she was extremely pale. Her legs swayed, looking as if a strong gust of wind may cause her to topple over. When she reached the Sergeant, she held out the bag for him to see. "Bread and potatoes, Sir." She spoke softly, not wanting to seem like she was intruding on them. "Rations for one week. There would have been more for month, but I didn't have truck."
 
Brian turned around quickly, rather surprised to see the girl standing behind him. Still, it was obvious that she wasn't completely fine, and he couldn't help but take a step back and press a hand against her back for balance. As he looked up to the sergeant, he smiled just a bit as he nodded and took out the money, handing it over to the girl without much of a word initially. "Thank you. We will see you next week then," he said before turning and continuing his business as he walked down the hall.

As the boy pressed his hand against the girls back, he carefully set down the rest of the food he'd been carrying. "Come on, let's get out of here," he said softly, his other free hand now holding onto her wrist again as he turned her body carefully. He wouldn't let go of her until they were at least out of the tent though, and as he escorted her, he made sure to help keep her balanced. Finally they made it to fresh air, and without even asking, he guided her over to a small bench by the road. "Sit down a bit. Are you okay? Can I get you water?" he asked quickly, his eyes looking into hers as he crouched in front of her and softly reached up to push some hair out of her face.
 
Elise put on a courageous facade, trying her best to compose her face into a less terrorized expression. She shifted her weight to regain her balance, curving herself so that the bag of bread slid down her shoulder. She bent to place it down with the potatoes, though she didn't like the contamination of the food in a medical facility. When the money was presented to her, she easily accepted it, placing it in the opposite pocket of her dress. Only a very small portion of it would belong to her, but it would help the welfare of her family.

His hand fit to her lower back, as if he was trying to support her in her wavering stance. "Thank you." She said to the man in charge, turning quickly to make her exit. Eyes didn't want to wander, but it was inevitable. People were missing appendages, wounds slashed open without much mending. She felt her chest heaving as if someone had placed a ton of bricks there and forced her to try to breathe with the added weight.

Though she had her reservations about him, she was grateful at the attempts he made to keep her on her feet. She didn't understand the carnage or why it was plaguing her home. For a moment, she wished to be him; to know she could return to a land where everyone was free. There was no war in his mother nation, with the exception of the bombings that targeted their fleet.

When she reached the bench, Elise collapsed on it. She bent forward, placing her warm cheek down on her knees. Her mind was clouded, silently hating her employers for making her come to this horrible place. When his hand swept back some of her hair, she lifted her face. Hand clamped over her mouth, hiding her quivering lip from view. Her cheeks were stained with blush, tears welling in her deep brown gaze. He asked her a question in English, but it was as if every word she remembered of the language had vanished from her vocabulary. "Tod umgibt uns." She answered, her face solemn.

(("Death surrounds us". . . I think))
 
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