The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-19-

Collectively, I think Delta Company and Serpent Company have shed just enough tears over the first few days of weapons training to fill an entire ocean.  You can go ahead and fact-check me on that, but I think you'll find that I'm nearly one-hundred percent correct.  Trust me.

Dallon completely broke down and sobbed the first time he shot a rifle.  Partly because the kick was so strong that it almost dislocated his shoulder, partly because it was loud and it scared him.

Pete decided to try shooting a shotgun for his first weapon.  Let's just say he didn't anticipate how powerful the kick would be, and the shot knocked him flat on his ass.  I think he was a little too shocked and bewildered to cry right then and there, but I heard him sniffling as he handed the shotgun back over to Sergeant Gioia and returned to the sidelines.

Josh, much to my surprise, decided to be bold and attempt to shoot a rifle.  I thought he would've been petrified to even step foot in the firing range, but no.  He took that rifle, aimed it, and fired a shot at the old targets without hesitation.  He actually managed to somewhat hit it, too, and with minimal tears.  He's growing up so fast.

Jon tried to keep it casual as he picked up a small handgun similar to the one Ray had fired, but the moment he tried to shoot it, the kick startled him, and he threw the gun to the ground with a frantic, "Son of a bitch!"

Mikey and I tried to avoid our turn for as long as we possibly could.  I'd been terrified of being the next to lose my mind and sob in front of the whole company, but it's nearly impossible to hide in a small group.  We were plucked from our spots of safety long before I was ready and thrust into the line of the firing range, where Dallon still sat crying on the ground.  That, of course, just made me even more petrified to shoot a gun.  What if I dislocated my shoulder?  Or what if I shot myself in the foot?  It was bound to happen sometime, and it wouldn't surprise me if I was the first to do so.

But thankfully, my first shot didn't go half bad.  I completely missed the target, of course, but after watching everyone else go before me, I was anticipating the kick.  It still stung like hell, but I was ready for it.  Maybe the rest of weapons training won't be so terrible after all.

Now, though, after a week of constant target practice, my twenty-fifth birthday is tomorrow.  Time had been flying by so quickly that I didn't even remember it until Mikey brought it up the day before.  It's crazy how fast times change.  I don't even know if I'm ready to turn twenty-five.  I'll feel like an old man.

This birthday will definitely be much different from past ones, too.  I'm not at home.  I won't wake up in my own bed, my own room, and walk downstairs in the morning to my parents' annual surprise party.  There won't be a nice homemade cake.  There won't be presents.  There won't be a whole day dedicated to spending time with the three people I love most in the world.  No, it'll just be me waking up in a rickety old bed in a foreign country across the Atlantic.  It'll just be Mikey and me and a bunch of people we met a few months ago.  It'll just be all of us bonding over learning how to fire deadly weapons, training for a war none of us want to fight.  My heart aches the more and more I think about it.

On the morning of April 9, before we head out for another taxing round of weapons training, Mikey is the only one to wish me a simple, compassionate happy birthday.  Not that I mind, of course.  I don't expect everyone to know my birthday, let alone wish me a happy birthday.  We're at war.  There's really no time for sentimental, celebratory things like this, and that's perfectly fine with me.  As long as Mikey's still here with me, that's all that matters.

Everyone in the company disperses instantly after our day comes to an end, leaving me in the empty firing range with nothing but my own thoughts to accompany me.  Twilight is steadily approaching, the sky bleeding pink and purple and orange, like a magnificent painting come to life.  A cool breeze blows off the lapping ocean waves, and the air tastes of salt.  It really is a nice place over here.  I just wish I could've visited on conditions other than a deadly conflict between countries.