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hetalia2010-03-17 12:38 am
luv-blindly.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-03-17 12:38 am
Entry tags:
[fanfic]Good Ol' Fashioned Boys
I'll be updating my other stories later (work and school have consumed me, I'm sorry), but I had the opportunity to talk to my grandfather who served in WW2 a lot this evening, and lord help me it actually gave me ideas.
Title: Good Ol' Fashioned Boys
Characters: America
Setting: August, 1944. Guam.
Rating: PG
Summary: If there's one thing you don't do, Alfred thinks, you don't tell the Seabees to 'build it on their own'. Because they actually will.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
15 October 1944. Guam.
It hasn't been that long since Alfred and his boys landed on the shores of Guam and fought to take it back from Honda's grasp. Really, Guam had been America's for a while before Japan had stormed in the day after knocking Alfred to his knees and claimed it as his own.
Still, the people were happy. And it was 1944, and it felt like the tide was turning.
(Arthur's been telling him that it always feels so at the beginning of a war. Alfred doesn't act like he hears)
The sun is sweltering and the air is thick, but Guam is his again. He seats himself on a chair in the commissary, resting a moment. There are boys and men around him, and among them he can almost see Guam itself.
Guam is a curious child, well, perhaps, a bit older than a child. Not an adult, but wise. It happens when you live beyond what you appear to be. Alfred can still recall, quite vividly, a few months before, when the child fell at his feet in relief. His small body was mottled with bruises and cuts too deep to be from anything by steel. Alfred hears bits and pieces of what Honda's men have done, and is promptly sickened.
He does not know that not so long ago, Kiku Honda visited much the same vengence on his brother, China.
He's heard distantly about how the Italies are not quite keeping it together; one wants to keep fighting alongside Germany (and Alfred does not want to venture a guess as to who. He doesn't even want to think that the brothers are behind that side), and one wants to rail against him.
But this is Guam. Tropical, sticky Guam. They are building it up to keep an eye on Japan, and to keep supplies going to the troops. There's a new group coming in to help--the Seabees.
Some of the group begin to tell him of serving in Kodiak, Alaska, building warehouses and trying to keep Japan from island-hopping through the Aleutians to march right through to the United States and Canada. They make it a few sentences into their story before the one sailor goes,
"Oh, wait. I served with you, of course you know about it."
And it was true, and it wasn't, Alfred remembered huddling in canvas tents in the dark of the north. He remembered fires that only burned hot enough to keep one side of you heated during the night.
He remembers seeing a lot more of First Nation there, but they do not talk much. There isn't much to talk about, anyhow, that either of them will deal with right now.
But they've been here for a few months now and they want a chapel. Some of them are good Catholic boys and others just want somewhere to go--the reasons don't matter. Mostly it's the fact that sometimes there will actually be a chaplain around and some miss a good old fashioned sermon.
Hell, a good old fashioned anything would be better than the mess of a war they were in now. But you make the best of it.
Still, Alfred can't believe the request when he hears them start to talk about it.
"You want to...what?"
"Build a chapel, for church--erm, mass," he corrects himself after the threat of an elbow to the stomach from a fellow sailor.
A good portion of this group is boys, really. Cropped hair and smiles and battles unseen. Maybe they'd make it home.
("That's a part of it, unfortunately. You send a generation to die for you, Amerique. All your children, off to war. Off to die")
Alfred tries not to think about it, though. If he does, it just brings back memories of times too close and too far away. Were a man to dwell on such things, it'd drive him mad. A Nation would not fair much better.
The blonde removes his cap and rakes his fingers through his non-regulation hair cut.
("You're supposed to blend in, Alfred. At least cut your hair," England had frowned, "It looks a mess". Leave it to Arthur to mother during a war).
"Mighty ambitious thing."
The boys have a C.O., and his opinion on the matter is quite clear. There is no extra time, material, or money for a chapel.
"You'll need to build it on your own," he tells them.
The Nation is nearby when he hears this, and has to stifle a smile. It wouldn't quite do, tending to the injured and smiling.
If there's one thing you don't do, Alfred thinks, you don't tell the Seabees to 'build it on their own'. Because they will.
Alfred clambers into the truck before it pulls into the woods (really, just a large thrush of bamboo), and the Chamorro and the child Guam and he take machetes and carve out a swath through the grasses.
When it is all said and done, Alfred thinks it's probably the best chapel he's set foot in. He wants to bring Francis and Arthur here to see his boys' handiwork.
Keep Notre Dame. Keep St. Paul's. Romano can keep his blasted Chapels and cathedrals in the Vatican. The floor is concrete, but shines like a real stone. The walls are made of bamboo, all dried and plaited together. It's not too big, but it's not exactly small either.
Little things like this keep Alfred's hopes up. It's a hard thing to do, when he feels himself dying in the far reaches of Africa, and aching with cold in Germany, and watching Arthur struggle with every last dime to just get out of this war.
He recalls not forty years before, when he was dying over and over in the trenches, but Francis (who now is free, though he cannot seem to escape the blight on his reputation that is Vichy) had kept slipping from them. At least this isn't trenches, Alfred thinks.
Some of the places he goes, though, are not much better than the fighting and dying for inches of land he'd so eagerly done before.
They all hate this, this endless fighting. But they cannot escape it.
So Alfred laughs when the commanding officer is shown the building. The man stands for a moment, unbelieving. Then he sort of smiles and doesn't say anything else.
Alfred is everywhere in this war, is all of his men fighting and dying. He'll remember more of Guam and less of Guam some days.
In just about a year, this war will be over. In just about a year, they'll carve up Germany into bits, and Alfred and Ivan will begin a long, terrifying game with the rest of the world at stake.
So for now, there is Guam, because Alfred cannot see the future. There is Guam and keeping an eye on Japan, and a little chapel in the woods made from bamboo.
------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes--
I don't have one for the building of the chapel/church, because it was a story relayed to me by my grandfather, who served in the Navy during WW2 and was stationed in Guam after it was recaptured from the Japanese.
The Seebees (or, Construction Battallions) were kind of like the Navy's engineers. Pretty cool folks.
Guam. Japan, like many other places it went, was vicious in its invasion and committed many of the same atrocities on the people of Guam as they had done earlier in China.
Italy surrendered to the Allies in September of 43, and later declared war on Japan. Well, part of it did. It's, ah, long story.
Title: Good Ol' Fashioned Boys
Characters: America
Setting: August, 1944. Guam.
Rating: PG
Summary: If there's one thing you don't do, Alfred thinks, you don't tell the Seabees to 'build it on their own'. Because they actually will.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
15 October 1944. Guam.
It hasn't been that long since Alfred and his boys landed on the shores of Guam and fought to take it back from Honda's grasp. Really, Guam had been America's for a while before Japan had stormed in the day after knocking Alfred to his knees and claimed it as his own.
Still, the people were happy. And it was 1944, and it felt like the tide was turning.
(Arthur's been telling him that it always feels so at the beginning of a war. Alfred doesn't act like he hears)
The sun is sweltering and the air is thick, but Guam is his again. He seats himself on a chair in the commissary, resting a moment. There are boys and men around him, and among them he can almost see Guam itself.
Guam is a curious child, well, perhaps, a bit older than a child. Not an adult, but wise. It happens when you live beyond what you appear to be. Alfred can still recall, quite vividly, a few months before, when the child fell at his feet in relief. His small body was mottled with bruises and cuts too deep to be from anything by steel. Alfred hears bits and pieces of what Honda's men have done, and is promptly sickened.
He does not know that not so long ago, Kiku Honda visited much the same vengence on his brother, China.
He's heard distantly about how the Italies are not quite keeping it together; one wants to keep fighting alongside Germany (and Alfred does not want to venture a guess as to who. He doesn't even want to think that the brothers are behind that side), and one wants to rail against him.
But this is Guam. Tropical, sticky Guam. They are building it up to keep an eye on Japan, and to keep supplies going to the troops. There's a new group coming in to help--the Seabees.
Some of the group begin to tell him of serving in Kodiak, Alaska, building warehouses and trying to keep Japan from island-hopping through the Aleutians to march right through to the United States and Canada. They make it a few sentences into their story before the one sailor goes,
"Oh, wait. I served with you, of course you know about it."
And it was true, and it wasn't, Alfred remembered huddling in canvas tents in the dark of the north. He remembered fires that only burned hot enough to keep one side of you heated during the night.
He remembers seeing a lot more of First Nation there, but they do not talk much. There isn't much to talk about, anyhow, that either of them will deal with right now.
But they've been here for a few months now and they want a chapel. Some of them are good Catholic boys and others just want somewhere to go--the reasons don't matter. Mostly it's the fact that sometimes there will actually be a chaplain around and some miss a good old fashioned sermon.
Hell, a good old fashioned anything would be better than the mess of a war they were in now. But you make the best of it.
Still, Alfred can't believe the request when he hears them start to talk about it.
"You want to...what?"
"Build a chapel, for church--erm, mass," he corrects himself after the threat of an elbow to the stomach from a fellow sailor.
A good portion of this group is boys, really. Cropped hair and smiles and battles unseen. Maybe they'd make it home.
("That's a part of it, unfortunately. You send a generation to die for you, Amerique. All your children, off to war. Off to die")
Alfred tries not to think about it, though. If he does, it just brings back memories of times too close and too far away. Were a man to dwell on such things, it'd drive him mad. A Nation would not fair much better.
The blonde removes his cap and rakes his fingers through his non-regulation hair cut.
("You're supposed to blend in, Alfred. At least cut your hair," England had frowned, "It looks a mess". Leave it to Arthur to mother during a war).
"Mighty ambitious thing."
The boys have a C.O., and his opinion on the matter is quite clear. There is no extra time, material, or money for a chapel.
"You'll need to build it on your own," he tells them.
The Nation is nearby when he hears this, and has to stifle a smile. It wouldn't quite do, tending to the injured and smiling.
If there's one thing you don't do, Alfred thinks, you don't tell the Seabees to 'build it on their own'. Because they will.
Alfred clambers into the truck before it pulls into the woods (really, just a large thrush of bamboo), and the Chamorro and the child Guam and he take machetes and carve out a swath through the grasses.
When it is all said and done, Alfred thinks it's probably the best chapel he's set foot in. He wants to bring Francis and Arthur here to see his boys' handiwork.
Keep Notre Dame. Keep St. Paul's. Romano can keep his blasted Chapels and cathedrals in the Vatican. The floor is concrete, but shines like a real stone. The walls are made of bamboo, all dried and plaited together. It's not too big, but it's not exactly small either.
Little things like this keep Alfred's hopes up. It's a hard thing to do, when he feels himself dying in the far reaches of Africa, and aching with cold in Germany, and watching Arthur struggle with every last dime to just get out of this war.
He recalls not forty years before, when he was dying over and over in the trenches, but Francis (who now is free, though he cannot seem to escape the blight on his reputation that is Vichy) had kept slipping from them. At least this isn't trenches, Alfred thinks.
Some of the places he goes, though, are not much better than the fighting and dying for inches of land he'd so eagerly done before.
They all hate this, this endless fighting. But they cannot escape it.
So Alfred laughs when the commanding officer is shown the building. The man stands for a moment, unbelieving. Then he sort of smiles and doesn't say anything else.
Alfred is everywhere in this war, is all of his men fighting and dying. He'll remember more of Guam and less of Guam some days.
In just about a year, this war will be over. In just about a year, they'll carve up Germany into bits, and Alfred and Ivan will begin a long, terrifying game with the rest of the world at stake.
So for now, there is Guam, because Alfred cannot see the future. There is Guam and keeping an eye on Japan, and a little chapel in the woods made from bamboo.
------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes--
I don't have one for the building of the chapel/church, because it was a story relayed to me by my grandfather, who served in the Navy during WW2 and was stationed in Guam after it was recaptured from the Japanese.
The Seebees (or, Construction Battallions) were kind of like the Navy's engineers. Pretty cool folks.
Guam. Japan, like many other places it went, was vicious in its invasion and committed many of the same atrocities on the people of Guam as they had done earlier in China.
Italy surrendered to the Allies in September of 43, and later declared war on Japan. Well, part of it did. It's, ah, long story.