"Everyone leaves for a reason, just as everyone loves for a reason. I just want to be someone's reason.." she remembered a young woman whispering those words, right before they charged into combat.
At the beginning of the Battle of the Bulge, the outfit I was with was a good many miles southeast of the breakthrough point. I was the first gunner in her new section of water-cooled 30 caliber machine guns. They were a Heavy Weapons Company of the 45th Division, part of General Patch's 7th Army. Alora was there with six other Australians.
They were ordered out between Christmas and New Year's to help close the gap in the line. The lieutenant general never minded missing holidays - her family was never very.. happy.
The company traveled nearly a day and a night in a northwesterly direction to our assigned area. They were attached to a rifle company to replace their light 30 caliber machine guns that had been knocked out in the attack.
Setting our guns up on the high ground, on each side there was a trail in the woods. There were several tanks with the company in the attack. It was all quiet nearly all afternoon, only a few small arms fired at us during the day. Then, all of a sudden, they were hit with artillery barrage. The company was completely unprepared. The shells were coming in hitting the trees and exploding. They were exposed to vicious tree burst shrapnel coming down on the group.
After some time, Alora told her assistant gunner to man the gun as she was going out to cut some large branch logs that had been knocked down from the shelling. The logs were to be placed over their foxhole to protect from further shell bursts. The lieutenant general left the gun and went about 100 yards toward the lead tank that had been knocked out during the battle. I got about four logs cut when WHAM, I was shot through the face by a German sniper. He had been left behind as the company drove Germans off the hill.
He was out in front of the knocked out tank. I fell flat on my face in about 15" of snow. My only thought was, "When will he let me have it again?" The bullet must have been a soft-nosed one as X-rays later revealed that I had pieces of shrapnel in my cheek and the roof of my mouth. The bullet had gone through my left cheek just below the jaw bone and exited out my right cheek, taking nearly all of upper teeth and gums as well as most of the lowers. I remember feeling numbness in my mouth. I thought my tongue was gone. I put my hand in the opening and was relieved to find it intact. The opening of the right cheek was up to under my eye and back nearly to my right ear.
The nightmare ended with an abrupt snap. Alora gasped for air, struggling to remember that she was in fact safe. The woman remembered vividly what happened and nightmares plagued her not long after the incident. The phantom pain almost made her get up and get advil.
Sliding her arms around the knees she tucked up to her chest, she rocked back and forth, following her breathing pattern. In.. out.. One... two... three.. Four.. in.. out..
A hot feeling raced over her, feeling little needle-like sensations pricking at her body. Alora closed her eyes to battle the wave of dizziness that crashed over her.
It had taken a year to get that injury fixed. She had a scar on both sides of her face and her jaw sometimes got stiff when she talked too much, which didn't usually happen.
"Nightmare. Just a nightmare," her stormy gray eyes flickered. Alora's Australian accent was thick. It set her apart from the accents in New York, though she could switch accents if she wished.
She wasn't exactly sure why she was living in America. One of the reasons was likely that her family lived in Australia, so she was well away from them.
New York wasn't that great. Loud music from nearby clubs, shattering glass, ambulance sirens, and drunken commotion kept her up two out of three nights. The scent of cigarette smoke, drugs, and car exhaust had her longing for rural living. Alora didn't fear getting mugged or being followed. She owned multiple guns and knowing how to use them saved her life when she was eight years old.
2012 gave her PTSD attacks, with some norse god coming down to try and rule the planet. What little progress she had made with her recovery had utterly shattered. Come 2014 and Alora was doing slightly better. She babysat a six year old girl, who was very proficient at reading her emotions and offering support. The family she worked for was, to say the least, rich, and covered any expense the former Lieutenant General had.
When she had calmed down, Alora got up, throwing on some mostly light colored clothes. Her converse were black, jeans light blue, t-shirt purple and sweatshirt white. She had dog tags around her neck, one circular, and the other octagonal. On the sturdy pieces were her name, regimental number, religion, and unit. She never took the chain off.
Alora Caprice Kennedy
O-9 LTGEN
Undisclosed
Unit 7
The necklace gave her some comfort and familiarity. The latter bred calm, collected living. The woman had a thick silver bracelet on her left wrist that she swore she would keep on. Alora worked her dark hair into a braid and swept it into a bun centered on the back of her head. Years of practice allowed her to do so without needing a mirror.
Having bought her own two-story house in New York, the woman was glad to say the invasion that this "Loki" person initiated didn't touch her home. The modern living space was plain. Mahogany floors and trim. The walls were all painted with an ombre effect, going from light yellow down to sunset orange. The furniture matched the color of the floor.
Upstairs, the kitchen was all tile, the backsplash diamond shapes. She had one sink and a lot of counter space. Alora refused to get an island. The living room had a TV and comfortable couches with a coffee table sitting in the middle. A mini mahogany desk was settled in a corner close to the wide-screen TV with a lamp on it.
Her room had a queen-sized bed, a small bookshelf, a desk, and a separate bathroom.
Downstairs, she had a studio. There was one window, exposing the room to the sunrise. Her instruments, drawing equipment, books, sowing, computers, and language books were tucked neatly into the room. Her mahogany desk bore the weight of many language and coding books, and her expensive camera. In one corner was her piano, guitar, piccolo, and violin.
Alora once hacked into the Pentagon for fun as a young adult on a dare, a fact she would deny with her last breath.
Overall, her house was plain and calm. Nothing in it sparked PTSD or anxiety attacks. The artificial intelligence she had created for fun was essentially there to keep her on track. The soothing Irish voice swayed one out of four negative thoughts.
Making a small, quick breakfast of yogurt and granola, Alora quickly brushed her teeth, grabbing her two handguns off the bathroom counter. One slid into her hip holster and the other fit snugly next to her right ankle. Checking her appearance quickly, her slender fingers brushed lightly against the scar on her left cheek.
Ugly, she muttered silently, grabbing some makeup to cover both sides of her face. Stumbling through the foundation, the woman finished her look. Slightly more happy with her appearance, she grabbed the car keys to her white corvette from her desk, trotting out of her house. A former military lady, she locked her house doors.
"I'm going to be late," she sang to herself, checking the time on her watch. 1900. Seven o'clock in the morning. Oops.
Considering it was the first time she'd been late to anything in her entire life, her bosses didn't mention it.
The 60-year-old woman, who looked like she was 17, had a crazy father. Heinz was his name and he was somewhere around 89. Heinz Kennedy was a scientist for an organization called 'Hydra.' Why her father chose to join something sounding so sinister, Alora would never know. However, she was usually the subject on which he experimented, as he was too cowardly to test it on himself.
When she was seven, Heinz injected her with a half-finished serum. It gave her increased endurance, metabolism, and boosted her father's morale. He continued with his tinkering and injected her again when she was sixteen and a half. This shot gave her immortality. Eager to please her discontent father, Alora was a willing participant.
At seventeen, Alora left the house for the military and quickly ran up the ranks. The Australian military gave her new insight on her family, though it took her two years to come to terms with the fact that her parents did not do their job properly.
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Thor's Lieutenant
FanfictionA former World War Two officer moved to the United States decades ago. The Australian Lieutenant General wanted to get away from her family. She found a job and soon found a family. Each turn has been dramatic for the military-raised woman yet she w...
