#this is my first time in the Canadian paratrooper uniform!

[onetomb]

I went reenacting today!

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - In My Blood

June 6, 1944 – Bayeux, France, 1330hr

The small city was bustling with American, Canadian, and British soldiers, all working to clear the area and check in on the civilians after the liberation from German control. Things were moving swiftly and Operation Overlord was seemingly working its way to being a success; but victory was far from near. The hospital in Bayeux was quickly used for military medical supplies and the wounded were arriving by the dozens to be treated.

Frances Besson was one of the first nurses to arrive at the hospital. She had been among the group of nurses who were parachuted in behind the lines and right away she was getting to work. Men were tended to and treated quickly and effectively and she sweet talked them just enough to keep them out of their own minds for a little while their wounds were tended to.

She soon found herself on the front steps of the hospital, helping to direct the incoming men from surrounding battles, both wounded or those who came to liberate. An American truck drove into the courtyard out front of the hospital and from her view up the front steps, Frances could briefly see a far glimpse of Charlie’s familiar face, Richie resting with him in the back of the truck alongside the American paratroopers.

“Richie! Charlie!” Frances called loudly, raising her hand to get their attention as she rushed down the hospital steps, dodging other nurses and soldiers as she held her apron up as to not trip. The truck stopped along the side of the dirt paved round-about as Frances reached the bottom of the stairs.

Charlie had noticed her by then, his face flat as he eyed her beaming grin from the few metres between them, Richie still laying limp over his lap. As she got closer to the truck, Frances noticed the blood that stained Charlie’s uniform, hands, and the puddles that were forming on the floor, and she slowed right down from her excited run to a slow hesitant walk. Charlie couldn’t look at her. He shut his eyes tightly and bowed his head as she stared at the body that he held in his arms, her eyebrows furrowing together for just a moment as she processed what she was looking at.

She stopped walking.

Charlie let out a choked sob, a fresh wave of tears trickling down his cheeks, as the American soldiers shuffled out of the truck to let him have a moment alone.

Frances couldn’t move for a moment, staring at the blood-soaked body that was draped over Charlie’s lap, shard of metal still sticking up through the clean tear in the uniform. The matted brown hair was all too familiar to her and she quickly snapped into her protective mode after the initial shock. She rushed over and stepped up onto the back of the truck, staring down at the young man laying in Charlie’s arms with his eyes closed gently and his lips lightly pouted, and Frances pulled him strongly out of Charlie’s grasp.

“I’m sorry.” Charles cried.

“Richie.” Frances breathed shakily, carefully resting him down against the floor of the truck. She set her trembling hand against his cheek, “Hey, buddy, it’s Frankie. I need you to keep holding on for me, okay?”

She turned to look back towards the hospital, shouting for backup and a few supplies. No one moved.

“I’m sorry.” Charlie repeated through his tears.

Frankie stared down at her younger brother, petting her hand over his tangled brown hair and refusing to even think about checking for a pulse. She glanced up again, seeing the group of nurses nearby only staring silently at them, the few soldiers in the area doing the same. No one was moving.

“I said get me some fucking linens and a stich, goddammit!” Frances screamed across the courtyard.

“Frankie…” Charlie whimpered lightly.

“Can I get no backup when I ask for it?!” Frances shouted to those around them, “He’s my…” her voice broke, and her volume wavered but she yelled just as passionately, “my baby brother…for fuck’s sake…”

“I’m sorry.” Charlie sobbed as he could nearly feel her pain through her words.

“He’s not…” Frances couldn’t even say the word as she leaned over Richard’s body again, her hand falling gently to his chest and pulled out the small photograph that was peeking from inside his breast pocket. The blood-stained faces of her family stared back at her. She couldn’t hold back her whimper as she tucked it back into his pocket and pressed down a little on his chest. She tried to convince herself with a shaky, “He’s not gone. He can’t be.”

Charlie looked away as she bent right down over him, soaking her white nurses’ uniform in dark red that pooled underneath them. She pressed her hand to his cheek, trying to ignore the terribly pale colouration of his skin.

“Richie.” Frances shook him a little, her voice strained in rough desperation. “Richard, please look at me. This isn’t funny anymore. Come on, Richie. Please. Please open your eyes, buddy.”

“Frankie…” Charlie whimpered, “He’s…he’s not gonna wake up.”

“Don’t say that.” she snapped, turning to look up at him with tears brimming in her brown eyes. She looked around helplessly for something…anything, “I can…I can still save him.”

It felt as if the world was stopped, as if the whole city of Bayeux was frozen in time, watching the heartbreaking scene unfold in the back of the truck. The nurse trying to save her most important patient, too many hours since he had been lost. She gently pried open his eyelids and the lifelessness in his grey eyes had her heart shattering in her chest. Frances had seen all too much of death in the years past but seeing the evil existence of it in her own brother’s eyes felt all too terrifying.

Charlie watched as she slipped off her knees to rest back against the side of the truck bench, her face scrunching up in what looked like her own form of agony and she held the back of her hand under her nose to try and keep herself calm. Frances shut her eyes tightly and let out a small sob, heavy tears dripping down her cheeks and she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes to try and smother them. Charlie shifted off the bench opposite her and sat down with her to pull her into an embrace.

Frances wept loudly, clinging onto him as he consoled her the best he could, eyes locked over her shoulder to the body of their brother lain over the floor of the truck. Charlie felt like he didn’t have any tears left, his whole body feeling quite numb, watching a few other men come over to take the body away.

“No.” Frances pushed Charlie away so she could lunge for Richard and she grabbed onto his wrist, “Don’t take him!”

“Nurse Besson, we’ve got to get back to work.” the matron nurse instructed as kindly as she could from a few feet off.

“I don’t care!” Frances yelled, sitting up on her knees to grab Richard around his chest to try and pull him away from the men who had started to remove the body. “He’s scared of being alone! He needs to stay with me! I’m his older sister; I need to protect him!”

“Miss Besson, it’s time now.” the matron said.

“No, it’s not! They can’t take him!” Frances shook her head, lunging forward to grab onto him again, “Please, God, don’t take him!”

Charlie set his hand on her shoulder and gently tried to pull her back, his face a perfect mix of expressionless yet completely shattered. The men carefully took a more steps.

“Richie!” Frances sobbed, keeping her hand clutching at the sleeve of his uniform. “Richard! Please, God!”

Her hand slipped off his arm and she shrieked through her tears, Charlie grabbing her around the waist just before she could throw herself after him. He held her as she cried, his cheek pressed to her back until he could feel each of her shuttering breaths as they watched Richard being taken away to join the rest of the lost souls of the invasion.

They both lost a brother that day.

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