Anamnesis [Lacuna #2] {Completed}

Chapter Nine

"Bellator (n.) warrior; warlike"

October 1943

The Italian front had been unforgiving.

            For months the 107th pushed the Germans back. Their mission was to corner both the Nazi Party and its HYDRA operation in Austria, cutting them off from their Italian allies, but since beginning their mission, word came that HYDRA was no longer aligned with the Nazi party. They may have no longer been affiliated with Hitler, but that nearly proved to make matters worse. Now they were fighting on two war fronts. 

            In early August, the infamous Colonel Phillips took command of their regiment. Bucky respected the man, but there was something about him that didn't quite inspire trust.

            However, the Colonel quickly noticed that Bucky, Matt, Dugan, and Gabe had become nearly inseparable. He had even sent them on a few small solo missions. The four friends were almost becoming their own elite squad within the 107th. But Bucky didn't care where Phillips sent them. As long as he could keep his friends safe, he would go anywhere.

            Letters from home became scarcer as the days passed. Bucky hadn't heard from Rebecca in more than three weeks. He was beginning to wonder if his last letter had made it home at all. He had no idea what had become of Rebecca or what's happened to his best friend since he'd gone away.

Over the months, Bucky had also earned himself a sniper's reputation. Somewhere along the way, the scope of his gun had become more of a third eye than a part of the weapon. But everyday he used it, the more he felt more of himself slipping. Some days it got to him more than others. But every now and again, Bucky felt as though the only thing he had to keep him company was the hard ground and the memory of his victim's heads violently jerking back as his bullets collided with their skulls.

Bucky knew why he was doing it and what it was for. He did it to keep his friends, family, and country safe... even if that meant staining his hands permanently red. He wouldn't admit it, but something inside of himself felt it was chipping away. Everyday he felt less like a human being and more of a weapon.

Sometimes, Bucky felt the only thing that kept him sane were the soft snores of his friends as they slept on the hard ground next to him. On nights when sleep wouldn't come to Matt or Bucky, they would stay up into the night talking. He half suspected his talks with Matty were the only thing that kept him sane. At least Bucky knew he wasn't the only one who felt like he was slowly losing himself.

After a long day of walking and fighting in October, the men left of the 107th tried finding a place to settle down for the night.

            Bucky, Dum Dum, Gabe, and Matty all sat in their own small circle eating their dinner rations around a small fire.

            "What I wouldn't give for some fried chicken." Dum Dum complained scraping the bottom of his can.

            "You want some nice homemade sweet potatoes with that too?" Gabe joked with him.

            "Yes," Dugan muttered looking longingly into the fire.

            Bucky chuckled and glanced over at Matty who was staring at the fire vacantly, his food untouched. He was doing his best to hide it, but Matt's hands were shaking. He had been quiet the last few days, and Bucky wasn't sure what to make of it. "Hey man," Bucky said scooting closer to Matt. "Are you..." Okay didn't really seem like the right word to describe their situation. None of them were truly okay. "I know the last few days have been harder, but I want to make sure you're doing alright."