The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 6

"So you're going to keep watch while I bathe?" I questioned, arms crossed. "No silly games or anything?"
"Oh come on, do you even know me? I'm dead serious."
I raised an eyebrow at Zussman and he held up his hands in defense.
"I won't let anyone come near, I swear."
I gave him one last trusting look and then went around behind the cobblestone wall to where the small river flowed. Zussman planted himself just outside of it, looking the opposite direction. The statue of him with his hands behind his back made me shake my head.
It'd been two days since arriving at the camp with Zussman and Daniels. I'd been mostly secluded to a tent with Zussman checking in on me every so often. I had convinced him to find something for me to do at one point and he returned with crates of medical supplies that needed to be organized--orders of a busy Turner.
I hadn't seen the Lieutenant once since our first and last conversation. Pierson hadn't shown his face close up--I had seen him afar once--either. The others were around every morning and evening, conversing. I'd learned a lot just from that.
Stiles--twenty one--was big on photography, hoping to one day work for Life magazine after everything was said and done. He'd explained how he wanted to expose the hardships of this war to society and bring attention to the German camps. Of course I hadn't been able to expand on that without risking future events.
At twenty, Daniels had a wife, Hazel, back home in Longview, Texas. He had told me few stories of growing up, of his older brother Paul. He said he wanted to be like him in some aspects of life. Daniels was open, trusting me before everyone else. Just like Zussman.
Zussman was another long story. He was a sweet twenty-two-year-old and easy on the eyes. More than once a day he had tried flirting with me, yet I turned him down in a playful way that crushed his hopes but brought them up also. Everyone else nearby often got a laugh out of the denials. Besides being a complete catch, Zussman was helpful. He truly seemed like he was trying to make sure I stayed comfortable until the possible ride back. I envied his humor.
Aiello was simply a bit of an ass in his late twenties. He was kind on the flip side, though closed off most of the time. I knew he didn't trust or accept me yet.
Maybe he would never have to.
I knew Turner was speaking with multiple people to get me out of harms way. He'd grown increasingly restless, as had most of the other soldiers, which told me something was about to happen. More than likely, that meant moving camps and penetrating further into Normandy. I knew Turner wanted me gone.
It didn't take me long to scrub underneath my fingernails and rinse off my dusty body using the waist-deep chilly water; it was cold, but I didn't mind using it to get clean. I used the bar of soap given to me by supplies to scrub up entirely. Though I didn't want to, I used the soap to wash my hair as well.
By the time I was finished, I felt like an entirely new person. Someone who wasn't only clean, but who had also gotten decent sleep and food. I'd been drinking tons of water too.
Picking up a thin cloth to be used as a towel, I patted myself off and squeezed out my hair. I quickly lifted the green-brown trousers I'd been told to put on for new clothes and tilted my head. I still wondered if they'd fit. I slipped them on after making sure I was good to go commando and then found my sports bra once more.
The uniform shirt had nothing on it. No name or badges or identifying marks. At least I thought that until I put it on. There was a single red number one on either side of the shoulders, signaling this uniform was meant to belong to a soldier out of First Platoon--Turner's platoon.
Distracting myself from the revelation, I bundled up my old clothes and rinsed them through the creek. I squeezed them out before returning them to a pile I would be sure to let hang later in the evening. My fingers combed through my thick black hair, undoing any knots or kinks. I rubbed my face with my hands to tighten up my face and feel more alive.
Opening up the small bag with other supplies in it, I dug past the razor and extra bar of soap to the toothbrush. I instantly scrubbed my teeth with a tiny drop of precious toothpaste that tasted like it had soap in it--it probably did in this time era.
Finished with everything, I put on a fresh pair of socks and slipped my feet into a new pair of provided boots. They were small for many men, but I felt just fine in them.
Honestly I was surprised I'd been provided with so much. If I was to go home soon, wouldn't they make me use the clothes I already had? Turner had spoken about keeping me on the down low from Colonel Davis. Was he coming soon?
Picking up a short string from the bag, I tied up my hair in a very messy bun. It wouldn't hold through strenuous activity, but for now I was sure it would work. I bagged up all of my belongings and then headed back over to where Zussman was still standing at attention.
"Zussman, where do you want me to put these things?"
"Back by your cot--" he cut off and immediately smirked. "Damn...are you an angel, cause I think I'm in heaven."
I let out a laugh and shoved his shoulder. "Stop it!"
Zussman fanned his face. "I swear it just got ten degrees hotter around here."
Shaking my head in annoyance--and flattery--I headed back for the heart of the camp. Zussman stayed right by my side, glancing my way with his playful smile of his. I had to admit the young man was trying hard.
"Zussman, I admire all of these pick-ups, but you could at least give me a chance to adjust."
"I figure they're helping. That they remind you of back home."
I smiled. "That's sweet of you."
Though he was older by a year, Zussman was definitely more childish. For once, though, I didn't complain. I wasn't the youngest--Daniels was--and Zussman was already trying to make me feel better. He didn't know the half of what I would go through upon reaching America.
"I'm going to go help Daniels with that unpacking. He may not let me cause of my wound, but I might as well try," Zussman touched my shoulder as he scurried off.
He had told me about how a Nazi had stabbed him in the side during the attack on Omaha Beach. Daniels had almost been killed if it weren't for him and vice versa. The story told me that those two were the closest pair in the platoon.
"Alright, I'll be in the tent, as always."
Heading into the empty shelter, I tossed the bag over by my cot. My haunches quivered as I sat down on my cot. Still, my ribs were tender from my fall down the pine tree. I figured they were internally bruised and would be for a while.
Reaching into my assigned sleeping bag, I withdrew my phone. I turned it on, seeing the battery at a solid seventy percent. I scrolled through my contacts, finding Adam's number. I clicked the call button, bringing the hidden piece of technology to my ear; I refused to let any of the others see it and risk ruining the future.
The line was dead, a few beeps and then nothing.
I pulled the phone away, looking down to see it said call failed. I turned off the precious technology and then tucked it back into my sleeping bag.
    Well, that's pretty much doomed.
Even if my phone did work, I didn't know if I could call from the past. Technically, where I was, my friends and family didn't exist yet. I was absolutely alone in a time period I didn't know as much about as I should have.
I stood from my cot, leaving the idea of the phone behind me as I exited the tent once more. The flap scraped my calves as I surveyed the area.
"Wow," someone exhaled a whistle, "you're already looking more like us."
I turned to the left to see Aiello setting down a crate with Stiles' help. I put my hands on my hips, rocking to the side in sass. The two eyed me up and down.
"At least I don't act like it."
"Who wouldn't want to be like us?" Aiello flicked the butt of his cigarette off and took in another puff.
"A few people, I'm sure."
"What's the hold up on loading things up?"
To the booming nature of the voice, I froze and dropped my arms to my sides. Aiello and Stiles began to rearrange the crate, pretending to look busy, as heavy footsteps pounded up beside me.
"Aiello, Stiles, get that crate onto a truck and then go find Daniels," the man with dark hair at the base of his scalp ordered in a deep, scratchy voice.
I flinched when the person turned on me. His dark brown, almost black, eyes drilled me into the very ground I stood on. My heart stopped as if being stared at by a hungry lion.
"And what are you doing?"
"Nothing," I paused, finding more courage to face the brute. "As Turner has ordered me to do."
"You're not a part of this platoon or any other, so you don't take orders from any single person," Pierson growled and I felt my courage snap back into it's turtle shell. "I suggest you either get back in that tent or make yourself useful and help pack up."
I wanted to cross my arms and face off with Pierson. He was intimidating, yes, and had an aura that screamed he would end your life if you crossed him, but I felt something radiate from him too. I could feel a weakness that was well hidden, but able to be brought out. It would just take the right person in the right moment.
My mother had always said I was good at reading and interpreting people.
"What should I do to help?"
Pierson almost seemed to retrace his steps, his words spoken out of fluster and hurry. I could see his mind racing to come up with something, but there wasn't anything. Nothing a woman could do...in his mindset, I was sure.
"Pierson, I need you to deal with what I said earlier!"
To the sharp command of Turner, Pierson dipped his head and started off, expression never once changing in our exchange. I watched him through a glare until I couldn't see him any longer--even then. Turner came up to me and I quickly released fists I hadn't realized I'd been clenching.
"How are you holding up?"
"Alright," I faced the Lieutenant. "Yourself?"
The older man looked taken aback I'd returned the gesture. "Barely."
I gave a small supportive smile and then glanced out to the busy camp. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Well," Turner looked out to the camp, "your flight is supposed to be here soon, as will more supplies. I won't have you start anything you can't finish."
    I like this man's mindset.
"When will my-"
A plane flying overhead made my words cut off. I watched as the pilot turned and came back around to land in an open spot outside the camp. I raised my chin in nervousness.
"Looks like your ride is here early," Turner looked downwards at my shorter height. "Have things to grab?"
"Yes," I breathed and then faced back towards the tent. "It won't take a second."
With that, I disappeared into the gray shelter and picked up the bag, shoving my phone into it. My feet hustled back towards the door where Turner was still, to my surprise, standing there.
"Colonel Davis was on the plane as well," Turner looked to the tall, lanky man exiting the flight and saying short commands as he made his way over to us. "Whatever you do, stay respectful, brief, and thankful. You'll be home soon."
I could only sigh out in apprehension, looking away from Turner's more determined glance.

--•--•--•--

Happy Saturday! Hope your weekend is going well!
Please continue to vote and comment! I appreciate the feedback and hope you're enjoying. I know it may seem slow now, but trust me when I say this is going to change course real quick!
Song: Make Me Believe by The Everlove
~MS~