The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 8

"We can't have her here, it's a danger to not just herself, but us all!"
    "You don't think I know that?" a voice hissed back. "What the hell do you think I'm supposed to do?"
    "Send her away on a train or through ground vehicles. Just get her away from here!"
    "I make the call, not you!"
    To the short silence outside the flimsy tent, I opened my eyes. The green tent had occasional holes on the sides, but the inside was still filled with cots. Next to each cot was a crate of supplies--medical supplies.
    Gingerly lifting my head, I saw that I was under a thin blanket. Next to my cot was the crate of supplies and my bag from the plane. There was a canteen of water, I assumed, also by my pack.
    In curiosity, I lifted the blanket. My borrowed pants had been replaced with a pair of men's white underwear. My face heated at whoever dealt with my wound--I had been commando underneath those pants; no one had better laid a finger on me. My thigh was currently wrapped with a white bandage. It hurt, but not as bad to what I could remember.
    "You're awake," someone spoke from the entrance to the tent.
    I dropped the blanket and raised my gaze to Turner. He stood, the flap closing behind him, and then proceeded to sit down on a stool nearby my cot. I felt my temple as he did so, feeling a thin bandage over stitches.
    "One of our best medics patched you up," Turner explained. "You were losing a lot of blood."
    "Head wounds bleed a lot."
    "The plane you were on was shot down by Germans. I sent Daniels and Zussman to--"
    "I know," I sighed, "what happened."
    "Then I assume you know what needs to now."
    I looked away from his calm, soothing gaze to the door. "I'm not going anywhere."
    Turner opened his mouth, surely prepared to argue gently. I didn't let him. 
    "I don't want to risk any more of your vehicles or supplies. You lost a plane and pilot in that fiasco," I explained. "If you send me off again, what's next? The Germans are expecting something now. If you send me off, you're endangering more losses."
    Turner was silent, his chocolaty eyes never straying from my punctured face. I looked from him to the blanket covering my leg.
    "Right now, I can't do anything, but once I get better--"
    "Ava, you know I can't let you--"
    "I have nursing experience. I can help with the wounded. There aren't many now, but I can bet there will be soon," I mentally smacked myself for hinting at the future. "You're going to need it."
    Turner was quiet for a long time, his wise face contemplating so many aspects to my proposal. I looked at the door wondering where Pierson had gone on such short notice.
    "I'm risking a lot having you around," Turner mentioned. "I already told Davis that I would get you on another trip back to America as soon as you woke up."
    "Don't make promises you can't keep."
    Turner's face pinched in frustration. "It wasn't a promise."
    I cocked my head. "Give me a month, Turner."
    "For what?"
    "To prove to you that one, I'm going to be handy, and two, I can keep up with everyone else here."
    "If you mean being on the front--"
    "That's exactly what I mean," I snapped. "I saw what happened to Raymond. No matter where I am, I'm going to see worse. So if it's mental preparedness you're worried about, I'm going to have to deal with it no matter where you need me."
    "That's not it...exactly."
    "Then what is?" I demanded.
    "Women...they aren't...you don't..."
    I narrowed my gaze.
    "You don't belong on the battlefield. Women shouldn't have to go through what we will. It's a dangerous place. I'm not saying you couldn't handle it, I'm saying I don't want you to have to go through it."
    "I was almost taken to a camp the other day," I whispered, my green eyes blazing. "The pictures going through my mind were so clear it was like I was going through it. Getting here in the first place has been enough of a shock already."
    "How would you know what--"
    "I get what you're saying," I interrupted, praying the subject of how I knew things didn't come up, "but I'm asking you to give me a chance."
    Turner was quiet for a long time, eyeing me just as detailed as I was him. It felt like five minutes of neither of us saying anything. Until he did.
"Not until after your wounds heal. Completely."
I couldn't help but smile.
    "Lieutenant," a Private ducked into the tent glancing at me then Turner, "Pierson has the information now."
    "Very well," Turner stood and headed for the door. "Stay here, Ava."
    What does one who is always curious do when told to stay put? Follow of course. I flipped the thin blanket off of me, clutching my provided pants folded by the cot. My leg twitched in pain as I put on the clothing, but I was determined to ignore it. I slipped on my socks and boots shortly after the struggle to put on pants.
    Mistake number one, Turner, I don't obey "stay here" rules.
    I gathered up my pack and then slung it over my shoulder, cautious to not hit my leg. My first few steps towards the door were wobbly and uneven. I let out a hiss of pain as weight was put on the leg shrapnel had attacked.
    "Don't let it show," I murmured to myself as I reached the tent flap.
    Stepping out of the tent, I was greeted by a busy camp. Soldiers were cleaning up some of the tents and supplies, loading them into vehicles. Men were rechecking ammo and others were actually gathering to hear higher officers give lectures on what they were going to do next.
    I looked over to where Turner was speaking with his platoon. Pierson was standing next to him, resting a hand on the hood of the jeep, similar to Turner, parked into their circle of briefing. Daniels, Zussman, Aiello and Stiles were all listening intently on what Turner was saying. I truly didn't want to interrupt Turner's little speech, but I wanted to know what was going to happen, especially for me.
    Upon closing in at my wobble, Pierson noticed me. His eyes rolled and his lips moved in a mutter that looked like "great" to my arrival. I raised my head and pushed closer.
    "Ava!" Turner widened his eyes. "What are you doing? You aren't supposed to be up and about yet."
    "Maybe not," I shrugged, leaning so less weight was on my hurt leg. The younger men all looked at me, either impressed, surprised, or annoyed--maybe all three. "What's going on?"
    "Nothing you need to know about," Pierson snapped, his hoarse voice still sending intimidated chills through me.
    Turner gave him a sharp look. "We're advancing into Marigny."
    I tried to recall anything I'd learned about military movement, but nothing came. All I knew were the major battles, along with some of the minor, and Marigny didn't come to mind. I did know what advancing would eventually lead to however.
    To my blank look, Turner continued. "Advancing means we're beginning to push back German forces. No more milling about as we have been. Holding Marigny will give us more advantages."
    I felt like he was talking to a third grader, using more simple language. It wasn't that I couldn't understand what he was saying, I just couldn't place the events in history. I felt like I needed to end those mental excursions and just focus on the present--even though it was the past in my memory, it wasn't currently. Until I figured out how to get back, the period of time had to be the one I belonged in.
    "I'm assuming that will mean wounded?" I blinked and didn't wait for a reply. "I'll be right there ready to help."
    Turner opened his mouth and then closed it. Around me, the younger men were staring at me. I assumed Turner hadn't yet told them I was to stay. Judging by the seething glare from Pierson, I knew I was right.
    "You're not going with us," Turner chose his words carefully, "directly, but we will use your...skills."
    I nodded and then looked at the four boys still looking at me. Upon my glances, they tore their eyes back to Turner. Pierson had yet to remove his glare from my face.
    "Get your things together, boys," Turner announced, dismissing the shocked men.
    I watched them leave and then moved to find something to do as well. The words of the Lieutenant surprised me.
    "You better make sure you're packed too Avaline."
    "Why?" I felt like I already knew the answer.
    "Cause you're going with the third wave behind us."
    Not in the exact front lines, yet close enough to still be in danger and see the horrors of war. I was already sweating at the palms, feeling light-headed at the thought.
    Turner gave Pierson a dismissing look and then removed his hand from the hood of the jeep. He walked towards me, a hand touching my shoulder to walk me back the way I'd come. I followed his lead, looking up in curiosity at his tense facial expression.
    "The tent you woke up in will have all the supplies you should need. Take what you need."
    "I will, thank you," I stopped, him slowly doing the same. "Will I even be with your platoon?"
    Turner let out a breath. "No, by the time the third wave comes, they are mostly clearing out buildings we missed and keeping track of bodies. We usually meet up by the end of the operation."
    I didn't have to ask which bodies...I knew all sides suffered casualties. "So I won't know anyone I'm going with?"
    Turner exhaled again and rested a hand on my shoulder. "I promise they will treat you with respect. If they don't, I'm sure you'll earn it very quickly."
    I dipped my head and he removed his hand, fingers gliding over the red number one on my upper arm slowly. His eyes glanced at the patch, narrowing in concealment. I blinked in confusion, deciding ignoring whatever passed through his head would be best.
    "What happened to the whole thing of waiting for my wounds to heal?"
    "I'm giving you the chance early. If you want to prove to me so quickly, I'll grant the opportunity...unless you want to stay behind--"
    "No!" I shook my head. "I'm fine. My leg doesn't even bother me besides the limp."
    Turner dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Now, go get your supplies together."
    I wanted to say the typical "yes sir," but I didn't know if it'd be entirely appropriate. Technically, I wasn't a soldier of his platoon or a soldier at all for that matter. Yet the way he'd gazed at the patch on my shoulder...it had revealed something. I just didn't know what yet.
    Without another exchange of words, Turner proceeded back the way Pierson had disappeared to. I didn't glance at him, instead heading for the tent.
    My leg was throbbing. I only realized it once entering the tent and feeling the sensory overload dissipate. I stumbled into one of the rooted poles at the center of the tent and held my thigh. If this kept up, there'd be no way of doing what I needed to.
    Sucking in a breath, I gimped over to the crates of supplies. My hand gripped a nearby messenger-type bag and I threw it to the floor. My body plopped itself down in front of the organized crates.
    The first thing I grabbed were heavy white bandages. Gauze was essential, as were a few tubes of morphine. I also added in the supplies needed for stitching up larger wounds. My fingers traced over the too-simple labels of Acetylsalicylic--or a form of aspirin--and threw some packets in as well. I found scissors and an eye dressing kit as well.
    "You do not have a lot, do you?" I murmured to myself and pushed myself up.
    I slung the strap of the bag around my shoulder, the compact bag resting at my hip. I made sure all of the pockets and openings were closed to avoid losing the precious supplies. My eyes traced over the crates once more and then I shook my head.
    "Might as well stock up."
    I headed back to the crates and threw in double of everything, adding extras I didn't take the time to read or understand more about. One thing I did remember through the beginnings of study was that soldiers would be out away from safe camps for multiple days, possibly weeks. If that ended up being the case this time around, I wanted to be prepared.
    Deciding I'd packed enough, I went over to where my canteen sat, untouched from earlier. I slipped it into a spot in my pack, attaching by a leather strap. I fixed my bag and then headed to exit the silent tent.
    "Ah, there you are," Zussman smiled as I revealed myself into the open, bustling camp. "I was told to come find you."
    "Are you leaving?" I wondered.
    "Soon. Turner wants you with us."
    "What?"
    "Don't sound too excited now," Zussman spoke sarcastically--at no point had I sounded excited.
    "He told me differently."
    "He may have changed his mind."
    I let out a breath and then nodded to Zussman. "Lead the way then."

--•--•--•--

Is anyone else wondering why Turner changed his plans so suddenly? Perhaps we'll find out later on.
Happy Saturday!! I hope your week went well. I'm currently in North Carolina, visiting family and sightseeing. Very interesting and beautiful country. I'm from Oregon so it's very different too haha!
Till next week!
Song: Even if it Hurts by Sam Tinnesz
~MS~