Call of Duty World War II -- Peace At Any Price

Merry Christmas

Corporal Nathan Thorn
December 24, 1944
Ardennes, Belgium

It's been six weeks since we lost our protector. Six long and miserable cold weeks. It's so fuckin cold here in Belgium. We're practically pissin' icecubes. In fact, Stiles slipped on a patch of frozen piss the other day, so guess there's that.

It's been six weeks since I've gotten that bottle from Vivian. She expected me to have downed it before even reading her letter, but I kept it. Haven't even opened it once. I was just waiting 'till Christmas. I'm not waiting any more, it's Christmas Eve, that's good enough.

I go grab the bottle, which is about the only thing here that doesn't freeze. I walk through the camp, shivering as I wrap my arms across my chest, trying to stay warm. The men are decorating little trees for Christmas. You hear that, Krauts? Can't destroy the fucking Christmas spirit!

I half-heartedly chuckle as I grab my bottle, making it back over to the fire with the others. Zussman, Daniels, Aiello, Stiles..they all got sorrowful looks.

Aiello: Whatcha got there, cowpuncher?

He asks without even looking up. We're all too cold to even do much.

Nathan: Boys, hold out your cups.

They begrudgingly do so, expecting coffee that's practically frozen again. I pop the cork on the bottle and their eyes shoot open, immediately looking at the bottle.

Zussman: Whoa! Where'd you get that?

Aiello: Booze!

Daniels: Where the hell did you get that?

They all ask at the same time and I chuckle.

Nathan: Vivian.

Aiello: Ah, your British gal. Sent you a little early Christmas gift. Send you anything else, huh?

He asks raising his eye brows with a grin and I shove him a little whilst chuckling, already knowing what he was getting at.

Nathan: She actually sent this six weeks ago. Right after what happened.

We all go quiet as we think back to what happened to Turner. Not that we have to think that far back.

Zussman: But hey! Let's go, give us some!

He says excitedly and the others smile and start asking for some. I pour the red wine into their cups, filling each to the brim as the bottle is quite large.

Nathan: It should help with the cold.

Aiello: Booze tends to do that.

He chuckles. The mood has improved quite a bit and we're all happy. Frozen. But happy.

It's funny how something that sounds simple like having a bottle of wine makes you the most popular guy this side of town. I raise the bottle into the air.

Nathan: Merry Christmas, Turner.

The others do the same.

Aiello: Oh, and Turner. Pierson made cowpuncher here a Corporal. I wonder what you think of that.

Zussman: Probably that you're the same ol' sack of shit, Aiello.

Daniels: Guys, this ain't the time.

They sigh.

All: To Turner.

Pierson: To Turner!

We all turn to see a very drunk Pierson stumbling towards us with a bottle in his hand.

Pierson: Lucky sonofabitch. You're always first, right?

I'm pretty sure we all internally groan with Pierson approaching us.

Pierson: Keep eyeballin' me. Yeah, get your jollies tonight boy, because tomorrow when that convoy comes through you're gonna be on the frontline defending it.

He approaches our little fire.

Pierson: And Turner won't be there to protect you!

He kicks snow at our fire and Zuss and I push him back.

Nathan: Easy.

He pushes me away and glares at me.

Pierson: Easy. You're Corporal now, huh. Yeah, let's see how fuckin' easy it is.

I glare at him, wanting nothing more than to punch the fucker right in the face.

Pierson: Go on. Gimme an excuse.

I glare for a few moments longer before looking away and sitting back down.

Pierson: Yeah, that's what I thought.

He turns back to the others.

Pierson: Six years I served with that man. Six.

He says in a tone that conveys this as a moment of weakness. That moment soon ends with him storming off after shoving his bottle into Aieillo's grasp.

Pierson: Merry fuckin' Christmas.

He storms off, leaving the rest of us sitting by the fire, mood totally ruined. I look down at my shoulder holster holding Turner's revolver.

I quickly down a few swallows of the red wine, feeling it warm me up a bit. I look up at the stars, getting utterly lost in them.

Nathan: Merry Christmas, Vivian.