Title: Epiphanies and Grenades
Pen name: fardareismai2
Disclaimer: SM owns these characters. I just like to play in her sandbox.
To see the rest of the entries in this contest, please visit the FML C2 www . fanfiction community/FML_Contest_Fics/77195/ (remove spaces for link to work)
A/N: I wanted to give a special thanks to my beta, VanPireNZ for her eagle eyes, and to Dannie7786 for pre-reading and reassuring me. Also, I have to give a shout out to all the WC Peeps who encouraged me as I wrote this. Thank you all.
The cold was painful. It crept into my bones and made my skin feel tight, like I was freezing from the inside out. I stood and stomped my feet, desperate to retain some circulation, although the foxhole wasn't tall enough for me to straighten up completely. The ground was frozen, so we couldn't dig deep, but we'd been lucky and found a natural hollow that we dug out a bit more. A fallen tree trunk and blanket pulled over the top provided us with meager shelter, but it was better than the body-sized depressions some of the men were stuck in. I looked over at Clearwater, curled up and sleeping while I was on watch. His breath showed as soft, white puffs in the frigid air, and he clutched the blanket around himself tightly. As much as I envied him the sleep, I also knew that he would wake up stiff and cold and sore.
Winter was harsh in the Ardennes, and we'd been in the forest near Bastogne for a week, determined to stop the German advance, and prevent them from taking the port at Antwerp. I'm not going to lie though, it was fucking miserable. Snow was on the ground and our supplies and boots were wearing thin; even our medic was scrounging bandages and morphine from the men. The fighting was nearly constant, and casualties were high.
It was a quiet night though. Even the Germans were too cold and miserable to put up a fight. I looked at my watch and kicked Seth. He grunted, and without opening his eyes said, "What?"
"Your turn on watch."
He sat up and scrubbed his face. In the dark I could barely make out his expression, his russet colored Indian skin providing him with a natural camouflage in the dark. Although we were both from the same part of Washington State, we'd never met before jump training. The Quileute rarely left the reservation and, well, white folk and Indians just didn't mix much. They even had their own school on the res.
When he first arrived, the other guys gave him a hard time, and called him the Washington Redskin. He kept to himself mostly. One day though we were both stuck cleaning the john; me for not polishing my shoes properly, him for well, just being him.
"Clearwater," I said, tossing him a scrub brush. He looked surprised. "What?" I asked.
He shrugged and said, "You didn't call me the Washington Redskin."
"Yeah, well, I don't think it's right," I stammered, embarrassed for some reason.
We worked on in silence, but then I asked, "Why'd you join? I mean, you had to know it was going to be rough."
He was quiet for a moment and then said, "My uncle was on the Arizona."
We didn't say anything else.
A week later some of the guys were having a go at him again, and I told them to back off. Clearwater didn't say anything, but he looked at me, and I felt like I was being weighed and measured.
D-Day, however, changed everything. Three of the 101st's regiments were airdropped at night, and we were scattered to the wind. Clearwater managed to round up a rather large group of men, and lead them safely to the rendezvous. After that, there were no more Washington Redskin jokes, and the men began to include him more, although he tended to remain aloof.
Clearwater brought me back to the present when he said, "I gotta take a piss, then you can get some sleep." He slipped out of the foxhole, quiet as a mouse. I don't know what they taught the kids on the res, but it wasn't just for shits and giggles that he was our number one scout. I wouldn't be surprised if the kid could sneak into a German foxhole, steal their wallets, and get back without being detected. It was unnerving.
I have to say, I felt better knowing he had my six.
A few minutes later he returned, and cracked open a can of rations.
"It's a quiet night," I told him as I pulled my thin blanket around me.
Clearwater merely grunted and leaned against the dirt wall of the foxhole, his rifle between his legs like an obscene phallic symbol as he proceeded to wolf down whatever was in the can.
Despite the cold, I fell asleep quickly, my body worn and exhausted. I don't know what woke me, and I was about to rearrange my limbs and go back to sleep, when I heard something; a soft grunt, and a whisper, although I couldn't make it out. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, what I saw made me hold my breath.
Clearwater was on his knees, ...
SORRY FOLKS, A VERY SAD, SMALL MINDED PERSON WITH WHAT APPEARS TO BE A VERY EMPTY AND BORING LIFE, HAS TAKEN IT UPON THEMSELVES TO GO AFTER ALL STORIES THEY BELIEVE ARE INAPPROPRIATE FOR THIS SITE AND REPORT, SO THE STORIES WILL BE TAKEN DOWN.
EPIPHANIES AND GRENADES WILL REMAIN HERE ON FFN. I WILL BE EDITING THE CHAPTERS, SO AS NOT TO OFFEND THE THOUGHT POLICE, AND BECAUSE I DO NOT WISH FOR ALL THE LOVELY WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT THAT HAVE BEEN OFFERED HERE OVER THE YEARS TO BE DELETED, BECAUSE THE OWNERS OF THIS SITE REMOVE EVERYTHING WHOLESALE, WITHOUT CHECKING ANYTHING OR WARNING TO THE AUTHORS. AFTER THE CUT THERE WILL BE ELLIPSES ... WHICH WILL INDICATE THAT THE REST OF THE CHAPTER HAS BEEN [EDITED] OUT, BECAUSE I AM NOT GOING TO SECOND GUESS WHAT WILL OFFEND THESE NINNIES ON ANY GIVEN DAY.
HOWEVER, ALL MY STORIES WILL REMAIN IN THEIR FULL, UNCENSORED FORMS ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN. SEE MY PROFILE FOR MORE INFORMATION.
I was jolted awake by the sound of heavy gunfire. Seth and I both scrambled for our guns and began firing back. In the tree line I saw movement, and it wasn't ours. They were trying to sneak up on us.
"Cover me," I whispered to Seth, and I slithered out of the foxhole, staying low until I was in throwing range. I'd played baseball in school, and if it hadn't been for the war, I might have tried out for the pros. I pulled a grenade from my belt, yanked the pin with my teeth and threw it into the tree line.
The forest erupted in splinters of wood and smoke and screams. And then there was screaming right next to me. I looked around but couldn't see anyone, and yet the screams didn't stop and then, I opened my eyes.
Instead of a frozen forest in the middle of Belgium, I was in my bed. I was naked, and pressed up against a warm, soft body, and we were sticky with my cum. "Band of Brothers" was still playing on the television, and I looked up into the pained and horror stricken face of my girlfriend, Leah. She was clutching her breast and sobbing, her screams subsiding.
"WHAT THE FUCK EDWARD?" she yelled at me.
Something was in my mouth and I spit it out. It landed on the sheet with a dull thud, and I gagged when I realized it was Leah's nipple ring; Leah's very bloody nipple ring. I looked up at her, aghast.
"Fuck that hurts! And did you just come on me while screaming my brother's name?" she continued, jumping out of bed and scrambling for some clothes, while trying to keep pressure on her bleeding nipple. "Fucking unbelievable!"
"Leah? Baby?" I whispered as I tried to follow her out of the room.
"Don't! Just stay the fuck away from me, Edward," she said as she headed to the door. "And stay away from my brother too!" she yelled as she slammed the door behind her.
A couple hours later I was on the computer and updated my blog:
Today, I had a dream I was in World War II. I pulled out a grenade pin with my teeth. I woke up to a screaming girlfriend with a bloody nipple and a ring in my mouth.
Fuck. My. Life.
a/n: This was definitely inspired by the episode "Bastogne" from HBO's "Band of Brothers." If you've never seen it, I have to say it's one of the single best war movie/series I've ever seen. A must see. The Siege of Bastogne, which was part of the larger Battle of the Bulge, was a grueling effort on the part of American soldiers, and yet they held the town and stopped the German advance.
Also, I know I used some language that some might find offensive, however, I attempted to make it appropriate to the time period. It is not how I would speak.
I also wanted to extend a thank you to Zigster, Chicklette, YogaGal, and SorceressCirce for hosting the FML contest. It's a brilliant idea.
Thank you for reading, and please read the other entries. Don't forget to vote! Voting opens on 2/22!