Always a Soldier

Standard Disclaimer about me not owning Gundam Wing or it's characters

AN: This a Companion story to Kindred which should be read after reading Part 4, however it can stand alone as it doesn't really have much to do with that story except some foreshadowing. It's format was inspired by Midii's "This Time Forever" so I got to give a nod to Midii! 

It seems so long ago, though I know it can't have been more than 3 years. When they announced we were at war, me and the other guys were the first to line up at the recruitment office. We thought war was exciting and at last we would prove to everyone what brave men we were. Was I ever so naïve?

We are resting today. Yesterday we threw man after man out of the trenches to take a scrap of land that can't be more than 500m. The Germans must have known we were coming, they were prepared and so would we have been if we had not been the attackers. Every foggy night brings an attack. We managed half the distance unnoticed and were lucky to get that far when Fritz¹ opened fire. One of them launched a grenade into the foxhole about six of us were hiding in. Duo Maxwell, a kid I knew from home, didn't even think, he just picked it up and threw it back. If he had only had half a second more. The blast ripped off his hand and he looked at it shocked, too stunned to feel the pain. We told him to stay put and that we would be back for him. He saved our lives. I wish I knew what had happened to him.

By the time we reached their trench our boys had done the hard work and we set to the task of catching the stragglers. I had it easy in that one, but something big is coming, I can feel it.

*

Two weeks of silence and every day the tension builds from the inevitable battle we all know is coming. My friend Quatre has been clucking at me to take off my boots. We are all up to our knees in mud and slush but he reminds me so much of my sister Catherine the way he worries over me that I decided to oblige him. With the dangers we face every day a case of trench foot doesn't seem so bad, but as I pull off my boots I see that I was right to listen to Quatre. My feet have taken on a hue of paleness which is almost green and they are sore to the very bone. I hope all they call for is some air.

*

I was right, something big is coming and it would seem to be our initiative. My battalion has volunteered to be the front unit. I had no idea we had all become so hardened and ready to face death. I don't know the exact survival rate for a front unit but…well we were told we would be given a week of leave in Paris if we volunteered. That cemented it for me. I'm willing to take the risk if I can see her again.

I met her coming through. I was quite taken with myself in my new uniform. I fancied myself a man but I felt like a little boy playing dress up when I saw her. I won't lie, it was her incredible gams that caught my eye first but when she turned around to face me that was all she wrote. I was taken. Those first few seconds moved in slow motion for me. She looked up at me shyly, reaching up a small delicate hand to brush her platinum hair out of her eyes. Her eyes were blue, icy blue belying the warmth that was there. She looked so innocent, almost as though she was afraid of me. That made me smile that anyone could be afraid of me. I asked her for her name. She looked confused at first but then said with an enchanting French accent, "Michelle Unette." Her voice clinched it for me.

I only had a week in Paris but I spent every moment with her. She was a good girl and I didn't want to change that but she let me hold her when we slept. I've never known such peace. Fitting that it was a prelude to war. She didn't speak much english and I didn't speak any French, but I know she understood me when I told her I'd be back for her. I know she did.

The Colonel is giving us our final orders now. We all feel the seriousness of the situation, the fact that they pulled us out of the trenches to tell us shows us how important we are. I've never seen Quatre look so grim. I think he knows we will have to kill. He hasn't confirmed any of his kills yet but this coming battle will call for hand to hand combat…bayonets. The Colonel tells us that we will be given two minutes of air support and then we will charge. If we're lucky the bombs will hit the Huns¹ and not us. He finishes by giving us all a shot of some especially good Irish Whiskey. This isn't army issue, I've never seen such extravagance by a superior officer. I wonder if he thinks any of us will be coming back.

*

The planes are flying overhead, any moment now we will attack. I know I should be preparing myself for the killing that will surely come but instead I close my eyes and think of Michelle. Her eyes glowed with tears the day I left. She broke my heart trying to hold them back, trying to be brave for me. I will be brave for her.

I know I've built her up in my mind. She's not just the girl I love anymore, she's my symbol of life and in this land where dead friends and enemies litter the ground around us I cling to her desperately. I will not return to her a corpse. I made a promise.

Quatre lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder and I do the same for him. I don't like the look I see in his eyes. I've seen too many men go into battle with that look, only to never see them again. I try to say something, anything that will take that look away. If a man believes he will die…

There's no time. The order is given. We charge. There is no sense in us creeping quietly. After the bombs they'll know we are coming. So we run with our bayonets thrusted forward and screams of terror that sound like screams of warriors flying out of our mouths.

It wasn't the hail of gunfire that was waiting for us as we expected, but an evil looking yellow cloud that was floating our way. The Germans had dared to use gas. We retreat but there is no escaping it. One of the men in another unit is a chemist and word spreads quickly as to what we have to do. Everyone takes out their handkerchiefs or whatever they have and start to urinate on them. Amazing that this can save us. We probably all would have looked quite humourous if not for the screams of the men who couldn't get away from the gas. We watched in horror as their eyes bulged out of their heads and they threw up their blood and lungs before dying.

Quatre is still beside me and with the others we charge again. This time we fight with one hand holding a urine drenched handkerchief to our faces and our other hands griping our rifles desperately. The cloud of mustard gas makes it hard to see and Quatre and I fall into a hole caused by the recent bombing as our comrades fight hand to hand among the gas above us. We trudge through when I hear Quatre cry out. I spin around just in time to see a German soldier slit his throat. I didn't have to time hold Quatre's hand while he died or even the presence of mind to do so. I saw his mouth form 'Trowa' as he fell to the ground and then I am upon his killer. He wasn't ready for me and I don't hear my own scream as I plunge my bayonet into his body over and over again, but I can his screams. He is dead but I don't stop. Finally my bayonet drives itself between his ribs and I can't get it out. I leave it and fall to my knees crying.

A sudden click makes me whirl around to face the barrel of another German soldier's rifle. He fired and all I hear is a click. I look down thinking I'm already dead and it takes me a moment to realize his rifle has jammed. He doesn't move to attack me and I see the reason he can't move. He has fallen backwards into another soldier's bayonet and is stuck. He has been gut impaled. He looks at me pleadingly, I can imagine the growing pain he must be feeling but I can't do it. His friend killed my friend and I killed his. I wanted to call it even.

I tried to help him drink but he was squirming too much to get any water. He's starting to cry out now and he grabs my hand desperately. He's not a Fritz or a Hun to me anymore. Right now he's just a scared kid. I don't hate him and he doesn't hate me yet we kill each other because 'they' tell us to. I remember not long ago it was Christmas eve and we sang 'Silent Night'. From the German trenches we could hear their voices rising to join ours. I'd like to think he was one of those singing with us.

His death has been painful and it must have been a release to go, but still I'm angry that he has left me here alone now. I grab the gas mask on his belt and Quatre's rifle and climb out of the hole. I want to kill.

Later that night I sit in the enemy's taken trench. "We took Vimy Ridge today Michelle." I write to her. I don't tell her about Quatre or my short-lived German friend. How can I stain her with that?

I got my leave in Paris and I searched frantically but I couldn't find her. I tell myself that the fighting is too close and so she moved to the coast, or better yet she listened to my last letter and moved to Canada. Yes, she must be there with my sister right now. In her last letter she told me she was going to join the Red Cross and be a nurse on the battlefield. I wrote her not to. I begged her not to. I pray my letter reached her in time. Things are so crazy now, but when this is all over I will find her. She will heal me.

Trowa died in battle 3 days later.

I hate this city. I hate the Fatherland. I hate this war and my comrades and my parents. I hate myself for being to weak to fight them all. I hate everyone but her. I dream of the day I will find her. I wish she had told me in time and then I could have helped her.

I guess we all knew this was coming, at least my parents said they knew it was coming. My father fought for the Kaiser in the first war. I have no memory of that time. I wasn't even born yet. I never had any intention of fighting for Germany's living space but things just didn't turn out that way. When the fighting started they began to round up those who wouldn't fight and send them away to camps. Camps where it was said they were put to work for the Fatherland and reeducated to love our country. But there were rumours about the never-ending work that went on in those camps, and I don't know a single person who has come back yet. I only lasted as long as I did because of my father's position. But I could see it both his and mother's eyes, it would only be a matter of time till I would have to fight.

Miriam clinched it for me though. I didn't know her grandmother was Jewish. No one could have guessed that with her white gold hair and blue eyes. I can understand why she kept it secret with the way things are now but she should have told me. I don't care about that and if I had known maybe I could have helped her get away.

Quatre and Duo held me while they took her away. They knew if I tried to help her I would only get myself killed but I couldn't just let her go. I couldn't fight both of them but I shouted to her as she struggled against them to come back to me that I would find her. That I would come for her and for her to be brave until I found her. They say they are deporting all of the Jews, but to where? What country will take her, and besides I'm not sure I trust what they say anymore.

When I went home I saw it in my parent's eyes. How could they ever live down the shame of having their only son refuse to fight, and now it was learned that he had a Jewish girlfriend. How could I fight for these monsters, but Quatre helped me work it out. He insisted that if I didn't fight I would be sent to a reeducation camp and if I was worked to death how would I ever find her? He makes sense and I agree.

*

I am fighting for a monster, against a monster. It's a wonder that Hitler and Stalin didn't get along better as Stalin also has a penchant for killing his own people. This battle is never-ending and it is no more than a street fight now. I can't believe that there are still civilians living in this ruined city but we find them everyday. Why don't they leave? Or are they not allowed to?

It is clear from the battle yesterday that we are better equipped than they are. They came charging towards us but it was clear that not all of them even had rifles. I wonder what they were expecting to do when they got here. Our gunfire cut them in half. It's easy to see they are fresh because they turn around and run. We don't hesitate to shoot them in the back.

There is too much smoke to see, and I don't speak Russian well, but we can hear the shouting and screams as our enemy runs back to what was supposed to be safety for them. It is hard to be a Soviet. You have two choices, you can be killed with a German bullet or a Russian bullet, branded a hero for being killed by us or a coward for failing to kill us and thus being killed by them. I should care about this injustice, the person I used to be would care, but I've just seen too much now. Only one thought plays continually in my mind: the sooner we win, the sooner I'll be free to find Miriam.

I've seen trainloads of Jewish people on my way here, and heard horrible rumours. It would seem she might be in one of those work camps. She's so delicate, why can't they see that? She isn't meant for such labour, none of them are. They all look so desperate. My mind tries to play tricks with me, trying to imagine what my dear Miriam must look like now, beaten, underfed, overworked. It is a cruel picture and I will go mad if I can't stop this from continuing.

I've started to consider running away, but deserters are shot. Quatre couldn't take it anymore. He's a strong person and he's always been able to stand up for himself and others, but this isn't something he could stand. It isn't a fair fight, it's a slaughter. I'm hoping they only sent him to a camp and didn't shoot him on the spot. If I had more optimism I would hope that he got away somehow, but I can't force my mind to think like that anymore.

I must reload my rifle. Another wave of Russians are heading this way. I can hear their terrified screams as they run headlong to their deaths. I must try and think of this as a good deed. I'm sparing them from enduring this horrid world any longer.

*

This never-ending battle has begun to turn in their favour. The Russians have cut off our supply lines to the city and it would appear we are now under siege. How ridiculous to be under siege in a city we had come to capture. Rations have been cut in half and our ammo is already beginning to run low. We've taken to ravaging the dead, German and Russian for any ammo they might have on their person, but even I can see that unless the lines are reopened it won't last. There are just so many of them. Waves after waves of men always running towards us. We shoot one and another is right behind him, it never stops. And they kill us too. They are getting better and more confident. Quatre should have stayed. We now have a worthy opponent.

I'm sitting in a shell of a burnt out building, guarding a city pass that leads to our makeshift headquarters. I am surrounded by grey, blacks, and browns. The only bright colour available to look at is red and you don’t want to look at that. My life wasn't supposed to go this way. I should be married by now. I should be waking up in a warm bed with Miriam beside me, wrapped close to me to keep warm. Her hair should tickle my chest and her cold feet should be warming on my legs. We should be arguing about how much money she spent on a new dress. I should be surprising her one day coming home from work with a new radio. We should be sitting down to suppers she is still learning to perfect. One night over a desert she should only pick at, her eyes should fill with bright happy tears as she tells me we are going to be expecting a baby.

I am being relieved. My shift has been completed for the day without me being killed or having to kill anyone. It has been a good day. Now I can go to another burnt out building and sleep until I am given more orders. I hope I dream of her tonight. I hope she is safe in whatever hell she must endure in these harsh times. I hope she remembers my promise to her. I will find her.

*

We have been abandoned. I didn't want to believe it, after how much praise as fine German soldiers they gave us but they have left us here. Apparently they think it isn't viable to rescue us. We are out of food, and we are out of ammo. We have been reduced to prying up cobbles from the street and chucking them at our ever persistent pursuers. I fear this city will become our graves, but I can't allow that to happen. Miriam is relying on me to save her. I must survive this.

I can sense it coming. Our commander is going to surrender, what else can he do? Hitler expects us to fight to the last man and paint a heroic picture of our struggle for the Fatherland. I think it's safe to say that we all hate the Fatherland right now. Can we expect mercy from Stalin?

I don't want to answer that question. I must survive whatever new hell is approaching. I must do this for Miriam.

I thought I was doing the right thing coming here. When we were all back home none of us really knew what was going on here, but we did know that communism could spread like dominoes falling if we allowed this country to fall. It seemed like a noble cause but I was still unsure as to if it was a cause I should be fighting for. The decision was taken out of my hands when I was drafted. I could have fled to Canada, but I decided to go, after all it might be sort of fun. The movies always make war seem so exciting. The movies don't lie, but exciting isn't necessarily a good thing.

 My illusions were quickly blasted apart about 15 minutes after I arrived here when no sooner we were dropped off at camp when we headed out into our first mission and where ambushed. I had never experienced having a gun fired at me before and if it were only that maybe I could still handle being here but instead I witnessed a horror completely unknown to me.

Quatre was ahead of me when suddenly he spun around towards me violently and then hit the ground. I tried to run to him, his eyes where confused and pained and his hands were reaching out towards me. Before I could reach the clearing where he lay someone grabbed me and hauled me back into the bush. It was Duo and he was saying something to me but I couldn't hear what he was saying because now Quatre was calling out to me and all I could hear were his tormented moans. The bastards had gut shot him. His hands were pressed to his stomach trying to hold in the intestines that were no doubt trying to spill out. I struggled against Duo, why wouldn't he let me get to Quatre? He needed my help but Duo was too strong. Duo grabbed my head and forced me to look at him. He spoke over and over again until I heard what he was saying. "He's a honey pot now! Don't you understand? He's bait. They gut shot him on purpose so that we'd go out there and save him and once we go out there they'll pick us off one at a time. You've got to stay put!!"

Duo has been here longer than I have and I know I should listen to what he is saying but I can't shut out Quatre's cries. I don't care what Duo says, he's not a honey pot, he's Quatre and he needs my help. Duo practically sits on me and with all his gear it's more than I can handle. I listen desperately, as his cries became fainter and than finally stop. I can't stop my tears, how could this have happened? We were here to fight and our adventure had barely began and he was taken away from me. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

I became frozen after that, my youth and optimism died with Quatre. Duo became my only companion. His idle chatter was soothing and he didn't seem to mind my quiet nature. He understood. With his easy going ways I thought he was just like I used to be, like Quatre was, until we went into that village one day. Then I knew we were more alike than I thought.

Sometimes we knew when a village was friendly or if it was run by the Vietcong, but most of the time we had no idea. This particular village we thought was friendly to us, we had been there before and were always well received. It wasn't so this time. The kids seemed to love us and one was running up to a bunch of guys not too far from Duo and I. They didn't seem too concerned he probably just wanted some candy but Duo saw something he didn't like. He unslung his rifle and screamed at the kid to stop, he didn't though and Duo opened fire. He killed that little boy. When we got close to him we saw he was covered in explosives. The Vietcong liked to do that sometimes, use children as bombs. I asked Duo later how he knew. He said, "I remember that kid. He was always happy to see us but this time he was crying. He was running right for us but he was crying his eyes out and I just knew. I'm just glad I was right or I couldn't live with myself."

Right after it happened Duo walked off on his own. I didn't go after him, I knew he didn't want to talk. Besides this tragedy wasn't all together complete. From one of the nearby huts a woman broke away from the men that were holding her and ran to the little boy. She fell to her knees beside him and cried. She looked like she was about to touch him so I ran to her and stopped her. The explosives were still active and I didn't want to find out what the price of that hug might be. I dragged her backwards from him and the other women came out to comfort her. I stood nearby compelled to witness this grief. When the woman got herself under control she looked up at me tearfully, and said in english, "I don't blame you. It's not your fault. The Vietcong came and threatened our village. He was trying to protect us. I didn't want him to but he wouldn't listen. He was the only family I had left."

I didn't know what to say to this simple and direct statement but I couldn't let her leave. I had to say something to her just to make her look up at me again. I had never seen someone so beautiful so I helped her to her feet, "You speak english." She looked at me slightly confused, "Yes, we're from Saigon." She had learned from us. I promised to take the explosives off her brother so she could give him a proper burial. Normally we would have blown him up but I couldn't do that to her. Something about her touched me, reached somewhere deep inside of me that I thought was dead.

I came back to see her often and learned her name was Midii Une. She had had a French father who had left them alone in Saigon once her mother died and the French pulled out. So she came to this small village with her brother in search of her grandmother. I fell in love with her immediately. She was gentle and soft. She helped wash the blood from me. I knew her association with me would put her in danger but I couldn't help myself. She was a drug I needed to take to save myself from my own darkness.

I took care of her. I gave her food and money even when she refused to take it. I made her promise to leave this village and return to Saigon. She would be safe there. Things were going badly for us. This wasn't the kind of war I had watched in the movie theaters. There were no beaches to storm or trenches to over run, there was only endless jungle. There was no way to tell the difference between our allies and our enemies. I had no clue what we were fighting for, or for whom. Nothing made sense to me, I just did what I was told. The only thing I was sure of was Midii. When I was finally granted leave I took her to Saigon myself and set her up there. Before I left we were married in a small Buddhist ceremony. That night I drank her in as though I would never see her again.

In the morning I explained to her what she needed to do now that she was my wife. Being my wife made her an American citizen, which meant she could go to the US. I was in no hurry to send her there though as I had no family that I believed she would be safe with back home and I felt Saigon was secure.

At long last we pulled out of Vietnam but in a mad rush and with out tails between our legs. I went AWOL to find her. Our small apartment was empty and no one had seen her. There was panic everywhere in Saigon and I couldn't find her. I had to find her. I didn't find her. Duo found me, crazy and out of my mind and forced me to come with him. He screamed at me that she had probably gotten out already and that we had to go.

I left with Duo. I left Vietnam and the war behind. I left Midii behind. If she did get out there is no record of it and I can't get back in to find her. Midii, Midii, Midii is all my mind thinks off. I felt myself deteriorate steadily upon my return. People call us monsters and murderers but I can't hear them over my heart's deafening cry of Midii, Midii, Midii.

I've lived without her for 10 years now. It's 1979. I've lived long enough.

I stare at the blank screen in front of me where just a moment ago Lady Une demanded my presence. I have a bad feeling about this one. Maybe it's because I've only just found Midii again and I don't want to have to leave her. I can hear her in the kitchen humming happily. We both survived the Eve wars and yet my battles never seem to end. There is always someone more who wishes to fight, who thinks they know what is best for the world and the colonies and I and the others must always stand against these people.

Usually the mission would fill my mind but right now only Midii does. I make a quick decision that this will be last time. After this we will disappear together and I will never have to kill again. Something deep inside of me cries out. It frightens me because I am not used to feeling fear and I don't understand the reason behind it. A thought runs through my head just as frightening as the fear as it is completely unbidden. "This time you will return. Don't lose her again."

AN: Concerning the WWI story, Fritz and Hun were slurs that the Canadian, British, and US forces used to describe German soldiers. As I'm sure you guessed Trowa was a Canadian soldier. Many of the events in that story were based on historical accounts from a book called "Canadian Historical Documents". The stuff about being pulled out of the trenches to receive a serious mission is true, as well as the urine handkerchiefs to fight the gas. However the Germans first used gas in 1915 I think against the Canadians at the battle of Epyres and yes I think I spelled that wrong, and yes they did win while fighting with the urine handkerchiefs. They also won Vimy Ridge, a very important victory but at the cost of many Canadian lives. The stuff about the two sides of the armies joining in Christmas carols on Christmas eve is also true. Kind of makes you wonder how they could kill each other after that.

As always your feedback is appreciated at jaimelynn1978@yahoo.com.