Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't own World War II and I don't own Resident Evil. Words and views used in this story are not of my own but of the people at the time. Remember, back then derogatory words weren't considered such.
A/N: Yes, I know, I'm posting up a ridiculous amount of stories. But this story was born from playing Call of Duty: World at War for the last week. Pairings will include: Leon/Ada, Chris/Jill, Billy/Rebecca, and a couple others. Also, let's see how many of you can guess the two battles started in this chapter.
Vae Victus- Woe to the Conquered
"All great things are simple, and many can be expressed in single words: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope." Winston Churchill
-February 19, 1945 in the Pacific Islands-
The boat rocked softly, a gentle lulling motion that was almost comfortable if it wasn't filled to the brim with men all wearing heavy gear. The waves lapped at the boat, splashing some of the men in the boat while a soft breeze fluttered down onto their sweaty backs. One of them, a man with a set of tanks on his back to fuel the M2 Flamethrower he was carrying around, wiped the back of his hand against his forehead. He wiped his hand on his multicolored pant leg directly afterward, slightly noticing the wet stain it left on the material.
Lieutenant William Coen was getting anxious. The silence from the island in front of them was frightening. With how close they were to the beach, there should've been lead raining down on their heads, from both sides. But nothing came from the islands. The mountain, a volcano the Lieutenant thought, stood like a massive guardian of the island. The men in the boat knew that that mountain was littered with Japanese soldiers. Their eyes were drawn to it, examining the large side facing them.
"Hey Billy, you think we're going to get shot?" Private Kevin Ryman asked from behind the dark haired man. Billy turned to face him, his face emotionless and Ryman backed down. The interaction managed to get a couple chuckles from the men on the boat.
"Why would you ask something like that?" another Private, David King, asked. A couple other men mumbled their agreement.
"I was just curious. Billy knows these things. He went to… Pe…Pele…" Kevin tried, pulling a face when he couldn't say the island.
"Peleliu," the man to Billy's right said easily. Billy looked over at the blond soldier, who stared out over the sea with his pale blue eyes. "It was the Battle of Peleliu."
"That's right, Ryman, The Kid knows everything that you don't," somebody snorted.
'The Kid' was Corporal Leon Kennedy, one of the youngest men on the boat, even though his age was the norm these days. Billy, Kevin, and a couple of others were thought to be old men because they were in their late twenties to early thirties. It was rare for a man to last that long in the war.
"So, this your first battle, Corporal?" Kevin asked, grabbing Leon's shoulder. The riflemen looked back at him silently.
"If it was, I wouldn't be a corporal…Private Ryman," Leon replied, looking as cool as always. Billy had always liked that about 'The Kid.' He was calm under pressure, even battle didn't really faze him.
Kevin's face flushed at Leon's statement. His attitude prevented him from moving up in the ranks. The officers that dealt with Billy and his squads didn't like that Kevin joked whenever he could. They grumbled that he wasn't a good soldier and that it was amazing he'd lasted as long as he had. Kevin had been a private for nearly four years now and he seemed doomed to stay such forever, especially since Billy didn't think the war was going to end soon.
"Where did you fight?" somebody from the back of the boat called, sounding uneasy. They were trying to ignore the fact that they were closing in on the gold strip of sand that formed the beach they would be landing on and the conversation seemed to be taking their minds off the doom that would be unfolding soon enough.
"I was in Europe," Leon said softly.
"Normandy?" somebody gasped.
"No. I was part of a regiment sent in after Normandy. But I saw it… God, it was bad," he said, his voice still soft. He rarely spoke loudly. Billy had to wonder if it was because he was raised that way or if it was the war slowly getting to him.
The Marines fell into a silence, punctuated only by the water licking at the boat. Then, the silence got eerie. They were only about a mile off shore by now. The men knew that the machine guns hidden in the mountains should be tearing them to shreds by now. They should be dieing off already. But nothing was happening. As the boats in front of them struck land, Billy noticed Leon looking at the mountain.
"What do you see up there?" Billy asked. Leon and Kevin were his best sharpshooters. If there was anything up there, they would be the first to spot it. But then, a gently movement from Leon.
"Nothing," he said.
And that scared Billy more than the silence did. Their LVT closed in on the island, the Mount Suribachi staring down at them. Billy looked them over as well, swallowing thickly.
"Maybe artillery and the bombers got them all," somebody tried. David shook his head, his dark eyes fearful. Billy noticed that several men seemed to be hoping that they wouldn't be fighting anybody.
The nasty attack on the island wouldn't have annihilated all of the Japanese on the island. Billy knew that the enemy force liked to make caves to hide in, so they wouldn't get decimated by any attack on the island. And even though he couldn't see into the mountain, he knew there were tunnels snaking through it, filled with men ready for battle.
The few Marines that weren't already wearing their helmets grabbed them and shoved them onto their heads. They tightened their grips on their guns, M1 Garands and M12 shotguns and Thompson M1A1s, and tensed up, ready to leap into action as soon as they could.
The LVT struck land and Billy hissed out the order. The men sprinted quickly out of the boat like vehicle, nearly stumbling as they hit the sand. They weren't used to the sudden transition from metal to sand. Billy looked up at the mountain, noticing that a troop of Marines was making their way up Suribachi as the LVT started up the beach slightly. It wouldn't be going all the way up. Just far enough for the Marines to yank out some supplies quickly.
"Something's wrong," Leon whispered.
Billy nodded, his eyes still scanning the mountain, when the men seemed to vanish and machine guns tore at the Marine's down on the beach. Billy screamed for his men to hit the sand and right before he collapsed to the ash coated sand, he saw the marines on the mountain collapse, all dead from enemy fire that was hidden within the mountain.
-June 6, 1944 off the coast of France-
Corporal Christopher Redfield, or Chris to the people who really knew him, felt like he was about to lose the meager amount of food he'd managed to choke down. He was trying to force himself to ignore the rocking of the LCVP that he and 35 other men sat in, waiting to hit the beach in front of them.
Next to Chris, a young red haired man looked like he was about to bolt from his seat and lunge into the icy water, his eyes huge and panicked. He didn't even have his helmet on yet. The Corporal sighed and turned to him.
"What's your name, kid?" the older man asked. The red head looked at him in shock, as if he couldn't believe that Chris was talking to him.
"Uh… S..Steve Burnside, sir," the newly named man stammered. Chris smiled at him reassuringly.
"Well, Steve, you're nervous right?" Chris asked, ignoring the fact that Steve had failed to give him his rank like they were acquired to do. At the moment, he didn't need more stress. Not as they got closer and closer to the beach.
"Yeah," Steve said, his voice still shaky even though he seemed a little calmer now that he had somebody to talk to. Chris motioned to the helmet that Steve quickly stuffed onto his head.
While Steve was fastening the straps under his chin, Chris said, "Well, I want you to think about your favorite thing back home, okay?" Steve looked at him in confusion but looked away thoughtfully anyway. "Got it?" A nod from Steve assured Chris that he could continue. "Okay, now I want you to keep that image with you. I don't care if you're staring a German in the eyes. I want you to continue thinking about that thing, okay?" Chris asked.
Steve gave him a weak smile and nodded, turning his eyes back to the beach. Chris' stomach was settling down when the bomb struck the LCVP and sent 36 men into the freezing Atlantic Ocean. Chris felt the air get ripped from his lungs and tears sprang into his eyes. He felt his people moving around him and he tried to swim, tried with everything he had to make it to the surface to that sweet, sweet air. But his M1 Garand was pulling him down.
A smiling face flashed through his mind and reminded Chris why he'd even joined the Army in the first place. At the mental image of his little sister, the corporal struggled to force his rifle off. He felt the heavy chuck of metal and wood pull out of his hands and he released it instantly. Kicking with heavy boots, Chris forced himself upwards, until his hand bumped the floating carcass of the LCVP, held up by a bubble of air.
The soldier's head broke the surface of the ocean and he drank the air in like it was a type of drug that he couldn't get enough of. He saw several bodies surrounding him but there was the beach, about half a mile away from him. Chris started the long journey to the beach, kicking and pulling the water to get to the sand. He heard bullets whizzing past him and the other soldiers starting to resurface.
Chris felt his boot come into contact with something solid but not all the way solid. He felt a sigh of relief almost escape him, until his hand touched something solid. He lifted his gaze to his hand and found himself staring at a bullet riddled American soldier, face down in the water.
Without thinking, Chris grabbed the dead man's rifle from where it lay on his back and struggled past him and onto the beach. He fell into a hole, made by a bomb, and felt something move at his side. He turned to see the very frightened looking Steve Burnside, rank unknown, staring at him.
"I'm still thinking of that thing, sir," Steve assured. Chris smiled and nodded.
"Good man," the Corporal said, moving into position. He aimed down the barrel of the M1, his left eye closed and his right eye staring through the small metal ring that acted as the sight for the gun. And as Chris pulled the trigger, he heard Steve mumble something about wanting to go home.
And the older soldier had no doubt that every single man on that beach agreed with Steve's comment.