The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 12

"Ouch!" I winced. "Take it easy with that! It hurts!"
"Sorry, I need to get it clean," Zussman replied, drenching my cheek with the rubbing alcohol once more. "If you would've just let me clean it when I asked, I wouldn't be having to dig into your skin."
"Hrmpf," I crossed my arms, looking straight across the canopy to the bustling camp. "A rather busy morning, isn't it?"
Zussman shrugged as he finally removed the alcohol-soaked cotton and began to patch up my cheek. I felt the single, simple bandage stick to my skin and Zussman smoothed it out with his thumb. I eyed the side of his face, focused and careful.
"Finally finding me attractive?"
My eyes darted away. "Hell no."
Zussman only laughed as he gathered up the used supplies to be burned later. I hopped off the medical table and straightened my shirt. Already, I was feeling less sore.
It'd been four days since Marigny. I had seen no sign of Turner and very little of Pierson. Aiello was around in the evenings for the typical conversing around the fire. Stiles was often throwing me little things to do here and there. Daniels and Zussman often were doing their own thing as well. It left me to sort mindlessly through medical supplies and stick to the tent quarters.
Zussman picked up my green helmet and then gently placed it on my head. I looked up at him as he politely clipped the straps at my chin and smiled. His eyes shifted from his actions to my own and then he swiftly returned the lipped smile.
"Any plans for the day?"
"I may go over and practice some moves with Daniels to get my side more in shape. Also been told to clean some rifles."
I was quiet as moved away from him and looked across the camp. Zussman paused in his motions of organizing and stared at me.
"What are you thinking?"
"Trust me when I say you don't want to know."
"Tell me."
I sighed. "Let me join you. Let me help with your duties."
Zussman sucked in a breath.
"Zussman I'm no help currently. I have background in combat...you saw that for yourself," I pointed out. "I need to hone it and use it. Being no help and cowering the whole time during missions is sure to attract unwanted attention."
Zussman gazed past me to where Daniels was exiting our shared tent. I stepped in his line of sight, preparing to beg if I needed to.
"Please."
"I can't make this call, Avaline. You know this."
"Who am I supposed to talk to then? Turner? Pierson? The fucking Colonel himself?"
Zussman sighed and shook his head, backing away with his arms out. "I can't help you with this, I'm sorry. If it were me...I would try and talk to Turner."
I followed him. "Me going and watching isn't going to affect anything."
"You'll attract attention," Daniels piped in, adjusting his pack.
"I told you to go talk to Turner," Zussman faced me, crossing his arms.
In that moment, with the stern look on his face, he looked like an annoyed older brother. I'd been told to do something and I hadn't listened, one of the biggest pet peeves of a demanding older sibling indeed.
"Fine," I glared at him.
Satisfied, Zussman turned and continued towards the firing area. Daniels gave me an apologetic look, clearly forced, and then followed his best friend. I continued to glare after them until I couldn't spot them anymore.
"Why so frowny?"
I snapped out of my glaring trance to face Aiello; he held a small crate of supplies. "Nothing important. What's that?"
"Eh," he shrugged and shifted the crate, "just some grub. New shipment came in."
I mentally translated his accented, twisted language to food. "I'll help."
"No thanks, I got this."
I cocked my hip. "Too bad...I didn't ask."
Aiello blew air upwards out of his mouth and then stepped towards me. "Take this one over to that tent then. If you can carry it."
I rolled my eyes and took either side of the squared wooden box. "I can carry it."
As soon as I had the entire weight in my hands, I blew out a breath of surprise and adjusted so I wouldn't drop it. Aiello smirked at my temporary struggle and then headed back for the truck. I hobbled over to the two-sided canopy and set the crate down with the others.
I doubled back to the truck where Aiello was figuring out the quickest way to unload the dozen or so crates. "Since we're doing this, why don't you tell something about you?"
Aiello was quiet for a long time, a simple huff of ignorance the only response.
"Fine, I'll start," I thought a moment. "I went to university to be a nurse and then switched to history."
Aiello huffed again as we both grabbed separate containers to take over.
"I left my mom at eighteen to go to college," I blinked at the memory. "She's developed cancer as of recently."
Aiello straightened after putting his crate down and then looked downwards at me--he was maybe six foot. "Why are you telling me your life story? Like I want to hear it."
As he continued back to the truck, I kept composure and followed. "Because Aiello, I'm trying to settle in a little bit. I don't know anyone here or practically where I am. I'm just trying to change that. Thank you for helping."
I picked up another crate and then sped off before Aiello could snap anything back. My legs held a reinforced strength of independence. At this point, I was realizing I really was alone. None of these soldiers truly cared what happened to me--I believed Zussman and Daniels were putting up a front. It was going to be my job to figure out how to survive and return back home.
The unpacking of the rest of the crates went silently. Aiello and I were also on separate courses, only passing each other in the middle--each going the opposite direction. It didn't take long for my arms and lower back to begin to hurt, but I pushed through for the sake of avoiding more shit from Aiello.
I reached the truck and the last crate first, staring at the slightly larger suspect. My hands gripped the handles on the sides and then I ripped the crate closer to the edge of the supply truck. As I went to catch it and pull it off, I quickly realized it was much heavier than the rest; it had to be an easy hundred pounds at least.
"Shit," I muttered as I began to lose the crate full of supplies.
The weight soon shifted, relieving my body of the strain. I lifted my head to see Aiello picking up the other handle. He stared at me for a tiny moment and then began walking towards the canopy. I stayed alongside him.
"Thank you," I sighed when we positioned the heavy crate to be unloaded by the next soldier assigned first.
Aiello didn't say much as he added one more crate. I adjusted my helmet, sliding my hands to my hips, and then looked across the sloped field to where Daniels and Zussman were firing weapons. The pop pop pop of a semi-automatic made my insides jump every time, but I also envied them. I wish I could've been down there practicing with them.
"I never knew my mother," Aiello's voice startled me. "She walked out when I was a young kid. Father kicked me out when I was sixteen."
"Why?"
His narrowed milk chocolate eyes studied me. "I suppose I was too rowdy for him to handle."
I dipped my head and followed him back across the field to the open truck. He began to close the tailgate, setting the pins so it wouldn't fall open.
"I joined up at nineteen, with the Pearl Harbor attack, and have been alongside Pierson and Turner since then pretty much."
He had a strong connection to the two oldest men then. It was interesting, and likely helpful, to know.
"You must've fought in the Kasserine Pass then," I stated, remembering that bit of historical information.
Aiello physically flinched and then nodded. "With Pierson and them, yeah. A lot happened and I'm not going to be the one to talk about it."
You're walking on thinner ice, Ava. Change the subject.
"Got a girl back home?"
Aiello shook his head. "I made sure I was single for this bit. Haven't been home in almost three years either."
"Ah," I nodded in understanding.
"What about you?" Aiello asked as we headed for the range. "Have a man back home?"
"I don't know how I should answer that," I narrowed my eyes, sensing the more sexual side to his question.
Aiello smirked. "However you need to."
"No," I put it simply, "but I'm not interested at the moment for pursuing such things. There are more important and serious things going on."
Not to add it would make things tense with Zussman.
"Touché."
As we neared the shooting area the smell of gunpowder and iron became heavy on my tongue. There was a smell of hot steel and a type of ash in the air as well.
"What are you two doing?" Daniels asked over Zussman's final shots.
"Thought I'd bring Ava down here," Aiello made me suck in a breath. "Let her experience it."
I shot him a sideways glance of confusion, half curiosity. He returned it with a subtle wink...a sign he'd seen me looking at the boys. Yet why had he brought me down?
"She's supposed to be talking to Turner," Zussman set down his rifle.
"You can't give me orders, Private," I teased. "Besides, I'm not even ranked, which makes me a citizen."
"Hey, you've been on the front lines. That makes you a citizen-soldier," Zussman argued. "The soldier part gives me permission to tell you what to do."
Boy, you're making me want to slap you. "Who says?"
"Me," he grinned.
"If you weren't standing in the middle of all those guns, I would slap you."
"If you could catch me."
"All I have to do is outsmart you...which wouldn't be hard."
Aiello chuckled and shook his head. Daniels had a gaped mouth of the typical "ooo" face to someone getting roasted. I smiled at a pouting Zussman and then crossed my arms.
"Have you finished your practice yet?"
Daniels opened his mouth to respond. "We just--"
"Someone! I need a medic!"
To the loud cry for help, I snapped my gaze back up the slope to the medical canopy. Two soldiers were rushing in with a very wounded one in their arms. I widened my eyes and didn't look back as I sprinted up the hill.
"What happened?" I demanded as I reached the tent.
"We got attacked by a hidden group of Krauts. This one took a knife for us."
I glanced at the gasping man, whose chest was reddened through his uniform, and then shoved my way closer to him. The table was even beginning to get bloody which meant he didn't have a lot of time--if at all.
"Both of you stay out of my way!"
I grabbed a larger thing of morphine and stabbed the solder's thigh, squeezing every ounce of the substance into the man. My hands were steady as I stripped away his uniform and tank top beneath, exposing his bloody chest. I searched through the blood to find the large gash, at least six inches across and an inch in width. The depth was enough to call for stitches.
"The knife was rusty, so there may be fragments in there," one of the comrades spoke quickly.
I found a towel and wiped as much blood as I could away. My fingers gently spread the wound as the hand with the towel switched for the germ-killing substance. I dumped a bit in the cut, causing the man to wiggle and groan out in barely-conscious pain.
"He'll live, but he's going to have one hell of a scar," I stated as I worked at gauzing up the wound.
By this point blood was everywhere, including on myself, but it was the least of my worries. If the man had been ten minutes later he may have bled to death or gotten a nasty bacteria inside the wound. He was lucky someone was able to save him.
"Hand me those scissors over there will you?" I demanded as I finished off the stitching.
One of the soldiers obeyed. I took the instrument and cut an inch away from the knot of the stitches. My hands then went for a bandage in a nearby crate.
"Hold his shoulders up," I directed. "Carefully!"
The two soldiers picked up his upper body so I could wrap the long bandage around the harmed man's midsection. I finished the wrap with two safety pins on his side.
"Give him three of these once he wakes up," I handed a comrade three capsules of Acetylsalicylic. "And come find me as well. Get a team to transfer him to his cot."
While the last camp had had a tent for the wounded, this one hadn't been completely set up yet. I was forced to rely on one table and the help of other soldiers to move wounded around. Luckily, this had been the only major scenario.
The two men used the table to carry the soldier to a nearby wall tent. They promised they would return it in minutes. I stood in the center of the canopy, breathing heavily as they left.
The reality of what had actually just happened was starting to settle in. My eyes examined my hands, shaking and bloody up until the elbow--thankfully the uniform sleeves had been rolled up. My chest had some blood on it as well.
The shocking part wasn't the graphic images forever printed in my mind, but the fact that I had real, actual human blood all over me. It was warm and somewhat slick, indicating I really wasn't in some dream or imaginary place. I was actually where I was, with who and when.
Feeling the pressure of a pair of eyes, I raised my gaze to a canopy across part of the field. At the command table, Turner stood over a map. He was watching me only, however, his eyes calculating from a distance.
I opened my mouth and then closed it, glancing at my hands once more. I knew he could see the rise and fall in my shoulders, the shakiness in my hands. As much as I wanted to hide it, I knew it was pointless.
Turner had seen the whole thing which meant he had seen me under pressure, not just a quivering wreck after. It meant he'd seen my usefulness for once too. It meant I had more of a chance...an argument.
"You handled yourself well," Aiello commented and I looked to him. "Let's get you cleaned up."
I nodded and then glanced back over to where Turner was still studying me. Very quickly and subtly, I dipped my head to him in acknowledgement. Before I followed Aiello, I noticed Turner return the nod.
He wouldn't forget what I'd just done.

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Hey guys/gals! Don't have much of an author's note this time.
Hope you're enjoying!! This story is going to start moving along very soon.
Song: Ashes by Ross Lara
~MS~