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31_days2014-01-17 08:56 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2014-01-17 08:56 pm
[Jan. 17] [original] Stunted Growth
Title: Stunted Growth
Day/Theme: Jan. 17, 2014 "of coming-of-age during wartime, and never reaching the proper age"
Series: original
Character/Pairing: Reynard, Baunel, Neal, etc.
Rating: PG-13
And just like that, the war was over for Private Baunel. He was bleary-eyed as he left my side, tired and aching and as full of painkillers as they were willing to give out to any single person at that point, but he still raised a hand to wave farewell to me. There was no chance of getting a man who'd lost his legs back out there- not even the other side was desperate enough to manage that. So off he went, shipped back home. The same attack had killed two others in our company. Comparatively, the war had ended for Baunel in a hopeful manner. In good enough condition to be moved, I sure he was strong enough to live.
Private Neal was dismayed to find Baunel had been taken out in his absence. Neal's injuries, like mine, were fairly insubstantial. We were headed back in the opposite direction; Neal first. Later I was set to follow.
"I wanted to say goodbye," Neal fretted, though he tried his best to put on a neutral face. I understood, after a fashion. I had never been able to discern exactly whether they had just met up in boot camp or if they had known one another before, since from the first time I spoke to them they had seemed like fast friends. And, heading back to the front, there was no telling whether Neal would come out of this alive.
If Baunel had been less drugged, he probably would've fussed himself about going without a special word to Neal.
They were just kids really. They were much younger than me. I called them Baunel and Neal and tried to distance myself from the truth of the chronology that lay between us, but I heard them talking sometimes and they didn't even use first names- they were calling each other by nicknames, single syllables, almost matching. They were barely old enough to have walked off the high school ball field and into the draft office.
"I'm back up tomorrow," Neal informed me, "Heading in first thing in the morning. You want me to tell the lieutenant anything? That you're doing well?"
"If you like," I allowed him. I didn't have anything in particular to pass along. Out of all the men, Lieutenant Fisher seemed to let his eye linger longest on me. For all the age I had on most of E Company I was one of the awkwardest in my greenness. I couldn't speak to how I'd seen death aplenty back home. I was a spectator, not a participant, in those illicit deeds, but that didn't make them any stranger to broach.
I awoke in the morning to Neal gently patting my shoulder. "See you soon," he smiled- a fractured, funny expression. There was not likely to be much longing lost between us.
"Oh, goodbye," I think I murmured before he went. I drifted back to sleep in the midst of the bustle. There was a creaky door at the end of the hall. Nurses talked in hushed voices. I had already learned before the war how a person could grow used to practically anything.
None of the company was left there with me. The ones who had accompanied me in had all departed one way or another. I did not learn what company, platoon, hometown, or anything that the most recent man to my left had come. Something did not go as expected with him and he bled out silently in the night. I hoped that death had caught him in his sleep. When I awoke nights in the crowded hall, I was filled with a creeping dread. I had no family remaining. If I were to die here, who would even know what had happened to me? I had not put the woman I thought of as my sister-in-law down as next of kin in my papers- it would have been too frightful to her, I had thought. I had not put down the man I thought of as my brother either- it had seemed too weak, too sentimental, as I'd left him on bad terms. My feelings were hurt.
…But what were hurt feelings now, thousands of miles from home?
Day/Theme: Jan. 17, 2014 "of coming-of-age during wartime, and never reaching the proper age"
Series: original
Character/Pairing: Reynard, Baunel, Neal, etc.
Rating: PG-13
And just like that, the war was over for Private Baunel. He was bleary-eyed as he left my side, tired and aching and as full of painkillers as they were willing to give out to any single person at that point, but he still raised a hand to wave farewell to me. There was no chance of getting a man who'd lost his legs back out there- not even the other side was desperate enough to manage that. So off he went, shipped back home. The same attack had killed two others in our company. Comparatively, the war had ended for Baunel in a hopeful manner. In good enough condition to be moved, I sure he was strong enough to live.
Private Neal was dismayed to find Baunel had been taken out in his absence. Neal's injuries, like mine, were fairly insubstantial. We were headed back in the opposite direction; Neal first. Later I was set to follow.
"I wanted to say goodbye," Neal fretted, though he tried his best to put on a neutral face. I understood, after a fashion. I had never been able to discern exactly whether they had just met up in boot camp or if they had known one another before, since from the first time I spoke to them they had seemed like fast friends. And, heading back to the front, there was no telling whether Neal would come out of this alive.
If Baunel had been less drugged, he probably would've fussed himself about going without a special word to Neal.
They were just kids really. They were much younger than me. I called them Baunel and Neal and tried to distance myself from the truth of the chronology that lay between us, but I heard them talking sometimes and they didn't even use first names- they were calling each other by nicknames, single syllables, almost matching. They were barely old enough to have walked off the high school ball field and into the draft office.
"I'm back up tomorrow," Neal informed me, "Heading in first thing in the morning. You want me to tell the lieutenant anything? That you're doing well?"
"If you like," I allowed him. I didn't have anything in particular to pass along. Out of all the men, Lieutenant Fisher seemed to let his eye linger longest on me. For all the age I had on most of E Company I was one of the awkwardest in my greenness. I couldn't speak to how I'd seen death aplenty back home. I was a spectator, not a participant, in those illicit deeds, but that didn't make them any stranger to broach.
I awoke in the morning to Neal gently patting my shoulder. "See you soon," he smiled- a fractured, funny expression. There was not likely to be much longing lost between us.
"Oh, goodbye," I think I murmured before he went. I drifted back to sleep in the midst of the bustle. There was a creaky door at the end of the hall. Nurses talked in hushed voices. I had already learned before the war how a person could grow used to practically anything.
None of the company was left there with me. The ones who had accompanied me in had all departed one way or another. I did not learn what company, platoon, hometown, or anything that the most recent man to my left had come. Something did not go as expected with him and he bled out silently in the night. I hoped that death had caught him in his sleep. When I awoke nights in the crowded hall, I was filled with a creeping dread. I had no family remaining. If I were to die here, who would even know what had happened to me? I had not put the woman I thought of as my sister-in-law down as next of kin in my papers- it would have been too frightful to her, I had thought. I had not put down the man I thought of as my brother either- it had seemed too weak, too sentimental, as I'd left him on bad terms. My feelings were hurt.
…But what were hurt feelings now, thousands of miles from home?