|
"A War Worth Fighting"Written By: SkyLark DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gundman Wing, or its
characters. I just love playing with them. Warnings: Swearing, angst, violence, angst, torture,
did I mention angst? Archives: http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com/gw/SkyLark/gwSkyLark.htm
and Rating: R Summary: Duo is fighting in the second World War when he's captured by the enemy. To view the pic by shiyasim that inspired this fic; click HERE "A War Worth Fighting" Greece must have been a beautiful place before the war- what with its breathtaking views of the Mediterranean Sea surrounding its borders and mountainous backdrop beyond the cities. Along with its historical artifacts and timeless structures, it surely was a remarkable place for anyone to reside in…. once. But, like so many other places touched by the war, that beauty was warped by the ruins and remnants of the struggle that took place there. Divided between the Germans, Italians and Bulgarians after its fall, the country's sections were run very differently. By far, the Germans had been the cruelest of the three oppressors, nearly destroying everything in their way. Stationed in that division, the Indian 4th division soon came to witness first-hand the brutality leveled on the people there. One of the things that the Axis occupants had not counted on was the uprising from the Greek citizens. Those brave souls, military and civilian, were not about to take their imprisonment lightly. Using everything they had on them, they fought. And they paid an immeasurable price for it. His aqua-blue eyes widening with a sharp gasp, Quatre
took in the tall, barren oak tree with a body or two hanging from
each high branch with a noose around their necks as they swung in
the breeze. Quickly looking away from the gruesome sight, he readjusted
the rifle hanging on his shoulder to reassure himself that it was
still This town that they were entering- Kalavryta- was the first that they would be able to inspect and see where they could be of the most assistance. No doubt there was going to be a great need of help after the way they had been warned that what they would find would be… less than pleasant. Still, nothing could prepare any one of them for what they did find. Coming around the last bend that hid the city, the infantry almost came to a complete stop when they took in what awaited them. Jaws dropping and skin paling, the lot froze stiff in observing the town that had nearly been completely flattened by what could only have been a massive torching. Charred wood and bricks lay scattered throughout the streets where homes and businesses had once stood. And like in so many other places they had crossed, there were bodies all around. Several neighbors of the little civilizations were tearfully going through the piles of rubble in a futile effort to find any survivors. Of course, after so long since the attack, there would be no survivors to be found. "By Allah," Quatre breathed in Indian as small tears stung his eyes. "This… this is worse than a nightmare. They left nothing." Just beside him, his `brother' Hari frowned and muttered in the old language, "The people here must have put up in incredible fight against the Germans to bring them to this. May the One who watches all keep their souls in peace." Unable to trust his voice, the Arabian soldier just nodded numbly. Slowly, the troop picked up their feet and trod into the devastated town. Even after so much time since the town was burnt to the ground, the scent of embers and smoke assaulted the air. Crushed and shattered glass along with splintered piles of wood littered the whole of the ground, making walking difficult and at times dangerous. Proceeding with caution as they stepped over their obstacles, the wide-eyed infantry scanned the area for where they could even begin the cleanup. Those Greeks that had been combing through the rubble looked up with sharp gasps and cries of, "Allies! Allies!" One of the few that could understand their language, Quatre quickly translated to the others, shouting to them so all could hear that the men and women were friends and not about to harm them. Instantly, those few confused and concerned released their hold on their weapons. At the front of the pack, the Arabian was stunned when he was pulled into a fierce embrace from a middle-aged woman that ran to him. "Oh thank the Saints!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "We have not seen friendly faces like yours in some time!" Wrapping the trembling woman in his arms, Quatre looked around as other members of the unit were hugged and offered firm handshakes from the clearly relieved residents of the shaken country. Like the blonde soldier, no one knew really what to do other than return the warm gestures. It had been a quite while since any of them had such simple exchanges with another person. …Such a while that for a moment, they almost forgot how to respond. For just a moment, the Arab soldier lost himself and closed his eyes to imagine that it was his mother holding him. When he really thought of it though, the stranger in his arms was a mother and possibly a grandmother. For the family that she must have lost during the nightmare that gripped her world, he wound his arms around her tighter. Gently rubbing circles along her back, he whispered in his tongue, "It's all right. It's over." With a startled gasp, the graying woman pulled back with wide and shimmering eyes at having found someone that understood her. For a moment, her brown eyes really took in his face. "My God," she breathed as she cupped the sides of his face. "You are so young." Looking to the other faces of the army men around, she shook her head, "Every one of you. You're just boys. Like so many others." Chuckling deeply, Quatre winked, "Well, we are not as young as we may seem." Lightly wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he turned to his commanding officer- Chetan- and said in his language, "We can gain information from these people. Best to have an idea of what happened so that we know how to help them rebuild." The tall officer grinned and nodded firmly, "Wise beyond your years as always, little brother." Gazing to the skies as the sun began to set, he sighed, "Considering the late hour, we best set camp here to rest for the night at any rate." Unaware of exactly what was being discussed between her rescuers, the woman picked up on the glance to the sunset and assumed part of their talk. Quickly turning to Quatre, she informed him, "There is a large church not far from here that managed to survive the worst of the burnings. Between its first and second levels, there is enough space to shelter everyone here. I can take you to it." His eyes brightening as he looked to her, the Arab faced his commander and grinned widely, "It appears that luck is on our side." * * * * Within an hour later, the infantry was shielded in the shell that remained of the large Catholic church at the edge of the ruined city. Its windows and a large part of the ceiling burnt out, the structure was actually quite sound otherwise. Apparently, the Germans did not take such careful measures to leave things behind when it came to the edges of the town. They had done more than enough to leave their mark on the people there. Standing at the front of the church, Quatre gazed up to the burnt remnants of the massive cross hanging on the wall behind where the altar once stood. Bad enough that it suffered the fire, but the parts that stuck around were riddled with bullets from machine guns rained on it before the blaze began. In one corner of the space, frayed sculptures gathered around one another were too damaged to make out whom they represented. Knowing his studies in other cultures and religions, the Arab knew by the way the statues were huddled together that it would have been a scene of Mary and Joseph with their audience over the baby Jesus. Not one white wall was to be found-only grea and black surrounded the area. The pews had been leveled to dust, making for a completely barren main room where the soldiers could lie themselves down wherever they wanted. As many of them as there were, almost half of the unit went to the emptied basement when the first floor was filled. It was the best shelter that they had ever come across in all of their journeys. Broken and tarnished as it was, the church was a welcoming site for the lot. Releasing a deep breath that he had been holding in an unsteady sigh, Quatre turned away from the altar space and rejoined his comrades. Carefully stepping over and around the ones that had already fallen asleep, he moved to where those Greeks that had been searching for survivors were huddled. Captain Chetan and his friend Hari were among the soldiers amongst them. In the middle of the huddle that they made, a large lantern glowed brightly to reveal the faces sitting close. All eyes fell on the blonde young man who stood out amongst everyone else. Quatre picked up on the interest in him as being the only one who could help them communicate and smiled sheepishly for making them all wait. Sitting beside the gray-haired woman, he grinned and spoke in her tongue, "Thank you very much for bringing us here. This is more of a welcoming sight than you could ever know." Biting her lip, she said quietly, "I am very glad that it can be used for a good purpose after…" Her voice broke off as tears filled her eyes. A sob bubbled out and the Arab quickly wrapped her up in her arms again. When she was calm and pulled back, Quatre wiped the wet traces on her face and began gently, "My name is Quatre." Holding his arm out to his fellow soldiers, he stated, "We are the Indian Forth Infantry." Smiling kindly, he asked, "What is your name?" Sniffling, the woman straightened in regaining her composure. "Iris," she replied in a clear voice. "Iris," the blonde soldier repeated with a grin. "Would you mind telling me what happened here so that I may interpret to my friends, here? Everyone involved in this war has a story. It's only right that we know what this story holds so that we can help you." The woman peered over to her neighbors consisting of eleven other men and women of varying ages. All gave her a firm nod at the request. Clearing her throat, Iris took a deep breath and replied, "All right." Everything that she had to say, Quatre translated as she spoke. Those army men gathered around came to learn of the horrendous attacks before the official collapse of their beloved country. This particular group of people came out of the Italian occupation, as close to the German border as they could be. Continuing in her tale, Iris went on to describe what they had come to learn regarding their neighbors that had been unfortunate enough to be controlled by the Nazis. All throughout Greece, fights from the citizens broke out in fury over being controlled by their enemies. In the hills and mountains, those residents with weapons were engaging themselves in what was being called guerilla warfare. Striking from the cover of the trees and rugged terrain that they had known since their youth, the people of Greece were able to take out a fair number of their oppressors. Kalavryta, like other cities within the German control, had been involved in those onslaughts. And they had been made an example of. Word soon spread from the few survivors of how more than three hundred people were slaughtered in the streets during the burnings. The Germans had been merciless with their beatings, rapes, stabbings, shootings, hangings and any form of death and horror that they could muster. The moment that they had a chance to come and see if they could help, Iris and her neighbors gathered up to go from town to town. After learning in great detail some of the terrible things that had been found along the way to Kalavryta, the Indian soldiers bowed and shook their heads in disgust at the cruelty of man. It all just seemed so surreal, and yet they all knew it to be the world around them. Finally finished with her story, Iris wiped her shimmering eyes and shuddered. "We arrived here just a few hours before we saw you," she whispered brokenly. "It's been a long, hard couple of years. And I just do not see how it will get better." Leaning in to embrace her once more, Quatre told her, "I know that your name, Isis, means rainbow. That is the symbol of hope from your religious beliefs. You cannot see the rainbow without the rain, correct?" Isis laughed at that. "Of course," she nodded while drying the last of her tears. Moved by what he had learned, Captain Chetan took a knee before the Greek citizens. As he spoke, Quatre translated, "Nothing that we say can make up for what you all have lost. However, I promise you, my men promise you, that we will do everything in our power to see than this does not happen again before this war is over and we can all rest at last." Wide smiles of appreciation spread on the Greeks' faces. Bowing her head, Isis reached over to squeeze the officer's hands and breathed, "Thank you." A long silence fell on the room before the group began to filter out to their blankets and makeshift beds. One of the last to feel settled enough to lie down, Quatre curled himself tightly in his sleeping bag. Shuddering, he closed his eyes and willed away the images that he had both seen for himself and come to image through Iris's telling. How any of the things that had happened, and continued to happen, was beyond him. Truly, he was witnessing the worst that man could do. All that one could hope was that the wrongs would be made right again. Someday. Just as he drifted off, a couple of tears rolled down the Arab's cheek. * * * * Things were quiet at Muroran. More quiet that usual
now that more than half of the soldiers stationed there gone. For
those that were left behind, there was a somber air hanging around
them. |
