#ww2 Christmas

[sjsmith56]

The Whole Damn Thing

Summary: Set in December 1944. Bucky makes a pass at a new nurse but is firmly rejected. When he learns why he attempts to be a friend instead.

Length: 6.1 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, not described, Steve Rogers, Howling Commandos, minor OFCs.

Warnings: WW2 Bucky (the flirting guy), grief, losing loved ones, pressures of the job, no smut.

Author notes: This story bridges both Christmas and New Year’s Eve in 1944, but the final part is set post FATWS. It didn’t start out to be so sad but it’s unavoidable knowing what happens to Bucky. ATS stands for Auxiliary Territorial Service, the women’s branch of the British Army. The majority of the women were assigned to work at bases as clerks, cooks, etc. The feast they were given for Christmas breakfast and dinner likely wouldn’t have happened considering rationing but this is fiction.

December 1944

It had been one of the more gruelling missions for the Howling Commandos. Although they succeeded in destroying their target it came at a cost. Even Cap bore injuries from the beating they took against one of the elite HYDRA divisions. On the flight home to their base in England, the others tended to the cuts and wounds inflicted on them. All were ordered to check in with the medical unit for further treatment.

“Even you, Buck,” said Cap, knowing his friend would try to talk his way out of it. “I expect to see you there.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” protested Bucky. “After a couple of days rest, I’ll be right as rain.”

His protests fell on deaf ears and once they disembarked from their air transport and transferred to the truck, Cap ordered the driver to take them directly to the base medical unit, while he checked in with Colonel Phillips and set up their debriefing. He made it clear that if any of them stepped foot out of the infirmary before he got there, they would be restricted to base instead of being given liberty. Grumbling loudly, the men obeyed the order and waited stoically to be seen by a doctor then tended by a nurse. Bucky hung back at the end of the lineup, hoping to slip out after Steve arrived but had no such luck and had to face the doctor, who determined Bucky needed to have several grazes from bullets seen to. As he sat there with his upper body uncovered a new nurse arrived with a cart of supplies to treat him. He eyed her, appreciating what he was seeing.

“You’re new,” he said, as she prepared everything to treat his wounds. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Yes, Sergeant. I am new here.” She focused on the two graze injuries, one on his shoulder and the other on his side. “Arrived three days ago. Looks like you dodged a couple of bullets.”

“Tried to,” he shrugged, then smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Lieutenant Lovegood,” she replied briskly.

His grin was almost wider than his face. “You’re serious?” She gave him a deadpan expression. “Do you?”

She stood tall, her hands on her hips and fixed a steely gaze on him. “I beg your pardon?” He stopped grinning, trying to be serious but not quite succeeding. “I’m an officer, Sergeant, and you’re an NCO. I expect a certain level of respect from you.”

Steve appeared, having heard the exchange from the next cubicle, frowning at Bucky. “Is everything alright here, Lieutenant?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Captain.” She looked back at Bucky. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant?”

He licked his lips and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for my poorly chosen words. I didn’t mean any disrespect to you.”

She nodded and continued to treat him, bandaging him up while Steve watched. When she was done, she advised him to keep the wounds clean and return in three days for them to be assessed, then took the cart away. Bucky put his undershirt and over-shirt on, then picked up his jacket, ignoring Steve’s glare. Once they were out of the infirmary the young captain turned to him.

“What the hell, Bucky? I know you’ve dated almost every nurse there, but did you have to ask her that?”

“Oh, come on, Steve,” protested the sergeant. “It was a perfectly valid question for a looker with the last name of Lovegood.”

“Which she’s probably heard from every guy she’s ever come across. Do you ever think of being something other than the guy who’s gone through the entire population of single women on the base?”

He put his hand up when Bucky started answering the question, not wanting to hear it. Heading to their quarters, the two men washed up, changing into fatigues, then headed to the mess tent. It being only a week until Christmas the menu had been enlarged to include some traditional seasonal foods of both England and the United States, and the team took advantage to try them out. While they ate at the same table Bucky noticed several nurses arriving for a break, including Lt. Lovegood.

She seemed pleasant enough as she listened to the other nurses talk, occasionally adding in her opinion if she was asked but she appeared content to observe more than actively participate. As Bucky watched her the other men in the Commandos noticed his behaviour and gave each other winks over Sergeant Barnes next target. The consensus was that Bucky would have a date with her by the weekend. As the nurses’ break ended Bucky beckoned to one of them, who excused herself from the others.

“Hey Sarge,” she drawled in her Georgia accent. “Who do you want to know about?”

“Stella, my southern belle, why do you always assume I want to know about another nurse? I thought you were my number one girl.”

“That was before our last date and before I met Lt. Delisle,” she answered, “and was proposed to. You’re fun Bucky, but you’re not exactly made out for a long relationship.”

He placed his hand over his heart, looking wounded. “I’m hurt, darlin’, truly hurt.” She grinned at the others, knowing she was right. “But since you’re asking, what’s the story on the new lieutenant?”

“Millie?” He nodded. “I don’t think you have much of a chance with her Bucky. She’s pretty serious. Good nurse and she gets along with everyone, but she’s been asked out several times since she got here and turned down every one of them. She’s already volunteered for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s Day night duty. Said she’s not interested in any of the celebrations.” The attractive blonde shrugged. “If she wants to work those days I don’t mind. It means I get two days leave with John.”

Called by one of the nurses to return to the unit she waved at them and headed out into the wintry night to walk the short distance back to her duties. Bucky sat back, thinking over what she said about the new nurse. At least he had her first name, Millie. He did like a challenge.

After the debriefing the following morning, Bucky returned to the infirmary, saying he needed some aspirin for a headache. He didn’t see Lt. Lovegood and asked about her.

“She’s in London,” said the senior nurse on duty. “She’ll be back tomorrow.”

No other explanation was given and all of his inquiries to the other nurses didn’t provide any answers. Every time he showed up over the next few days in the hopes of speaking with her, she was busy with another soldier. He had to admit that her lack of availability began to make him believe he was never going to get a chance to convince Lt. Lovegood to go out with him.

It was late Christmas Eve when he tried again. Leaving a Christmas party at the local pub, he showed up at the medical unit, knowing that she was on duty. As he waited in the foyer he peeked into the ward where there were several soldiers too injured to be released back to their units. He saw Lt. Lovegood sitting beside the bed of a young airman who had received extensive burns from a fire on the bomber he was in. With his arms heavily bandaged she was writing a letter for him. Quietly opening the door Bucky waited just inside, hoping to catch her attention. Instead, he found himself listening to something that was meant to be private.

“How do I tell her that my arms and hands are badly burnt?” asked the airman. “She won’t want me when she sees my arms.”

“Exactly like that,” replied Lovegood, gently. “The truth can be painful to hear but it’s always best. If your fiancée truly loves you the scarring won’t matter, not when she has the rest of you back in one piece.”

He shook his head. “We were homecoming king and queen in our senior year of high school. Everyone said we looked so good together, like movie stars.”

“So, you spent your time together staring at yourselves in a mirror. Is that how your relationship went?”

“No,” he smiled shyly. “In fact, one of the best memories I have is when we got caught in a rainstorm and soaked through. Her hair was all flat and we both looked like drowned rats, but we just laughed at how both of us forgot to bring an umbrella that day.”

“So, you have seen each other when you weren’t at your best and you still love each other.” She smiled at him. “Sounds like she’s the one, Private.” She looked at her watch then back at the door, noticing Bucky there. “I have to see to another soldier. Why don’t you think on what you want to say, and I’ll come back to write for you. We’ll get that letter into the outgoing mail by morning.”

“Sorry,” said Bucky, as she approached. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I’ve been trying to see you alone for a couple of days.”

“It’s alright,” she answered, surprising him with her kind tone. “Follow me.”

She led him to a room, gesturing for him to sit on the treatment bed. Pulling up a chair, she sat and looked at him.

“Why are you so insistent on seeing me?” she asked. “I’m sure the other nurses have told you that I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone.”

“It seems lonely,” he replied. “We’re in the middle of a war, with soldiers dying or coming back with wounds that could change their lives drastically. I just thought we could go out for drinks, dance a little, make out a little and enjoy what time we have left with each other. Even if we don’t go past drinks, I just wanted a chance to get to know you.”

Her sad smile made him feel like he had just stepped over that line again. “What if I told you that I’ve already done that, twice. Not with you, obviously, but allowed myself to become involved with a soldier just like you.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no one like me.” His grin failed to bring out a similar response from her and Bucky’s face became serious. “What happened?”

“The first soldier I gave my heart to was killed in Sicily,” she said. “I was stationed in North Africa then. After he died, I was transferred to London. Met and fell in love with a bomber pilot. A month ago, he received a head injury on the flight back from Germany. He barely survived the surgery he needed to remove shrapnel from his brain. They transferred me here because I couldn’t do my job being near him. It was too painful. Being here gives me something to focus on.”

“You were in London recently,” said Bucky.

She nodded. “He didn’t regain consciousness before he died, but I already accepted that he was gone from me. I was there when he took his last breath. They offered to give me leave but where would I go? Home? I’m a nurse and I’m needed here. So, I do my job, eat, sleep, get up and do my job some more. It keeps me going.” She fixed her eyes on him. “That’s why I won’t go out with anyone, and I don’t want to get to know you personally. My heart isn’t in it and I’ve kind of accepted that maybe I’m not meant to fall in love. I’m not meant for the whole damn thing.” She stood up. “Now, if you would please allow me to do my job, I promised Private Wainwright that I would write a letter to his fiancée for him. I’d like to get it into the outgoing mail in the morning.”

Running his hand through his hair Bucky nodded and hopped off the bed. Allowing her to leave first, he watched as she returned to the bedside of the burnt airman. Smiling warmly at the young man, she picked up the writing paper and started to write as he dictated to her. As Bucky left the building, he looked up at the clear night sky, identifying several constellations that weren’t visible from Brooklyn. He pulled his pack of cigarettes out and lit one up, thinking of what Lt. Millie Lovegood had revealed to him.

He couldn’t fault her logic, and even though she said she accepted that the second man was already dead well before he took his last breath, he figured she was still hurting and grieving his death. So, maybe pursuing her for a date wasn’t in the cards but there was no reason they couldn’t be friends, was there? He took a long drag of his cigarette then moved his head back and let the smoke out forcefully. He could be her friend. It would be a good thing for him to be friends with her. He could do this.

Christmas morning breakfast was a special occasion as someone high up had arranged for fresh eggs and bacon to be procured and the cooks were making the eggs to order. There were also an assortment of pastries including cinnamon buns, danishes and muffins. Bucky, noticing the nurses hadn’t yet arrived took two large plates over to the pastry choices which were rapidly depleting, and loaded them up with an assortment of the tasty treats. When he brought them back to the table where the rest of the team were, several of the men reached out for them.

“Back off,” said Bucky, standing up with the plates in his hands so they were out of their reach. “These aren’t for your mugs. I’m saving them for the nurses. They’ll all be gone by the time they get here.”

“Still trying, hey Sarge?” asked Morita. “You think Lt. Lovegood is going to go out with you because you saved her a muffin?”

“Not trying to go out with her,” he answered. “She has her reasons to turn me down, and I respect them. Just being a friend to all of them. They work hard and I thought it would be nice to show them some appreciation.”

Several puzzled looks were exchanged, although Steve smiled warmly at his best friend, as Bucky had confided in him on his return to their barracks the night before. It was a nice thing to do for all of the nurses and he knew it would be appreciated by them. When the ladies did arrive, and their faces fell a little at the limited choice, Bucky got up with his two plates and set them down in front of the surprised nurses.

“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he smiled. “I had to fight them off to save some of the best for you.”

There was a chorus of “Thank you, Bucky” and “Thanks, Sarge” given, but Lt. Lovegood just presented him with a warm smile. He nodded and returned to his table, finishing off his coffee, before putting his coat on and heading out into the cold air. For the rest of the day, he relaxed, reading a book, then took in a Christmas movie in the mess hall as the sounds of the kitchen staff preparing the Christmas dinner occasionally drew his attention. With a full pack of cigarettes in hand, he stepped into the busy kitchen getting the attention of one of the ATS cooks, a lovely English woman named Marjorie who reminded him of a younger version of his mother. In the brisk atmosphere of the busy kitchen, he offered her the cigarettes for a favour, explaining how he wanted to make sure the nurses had a good selection of the food brought in for the Americans, when they came off duty. She negotiated for some of his chocolate rations as well, which he gladly gave up, knowing that Marjorie would come through for him. Then he asked for an extra slice of pumpkin pie be saved for him, to be picked up that evening.

“That’s a tall order, Sergeant,” she teased. “You must want it for someone special.”

“Yeah, a friend,” he smiled. “She’s missing her fella. He didn’t make it, so I’m just trying to be kind to her.”

“Alright, then. I’ll make sure it’s ready for you. You’re a good egg, Sergeant.”

“I try.”

With a small smile at her, he left her with the cigarettes, promising to come back with the chocolate right away. After making good on that, he joined the lineup that was already forming outside for Christmas dinner. The smells wafting out of the hall every time the door opened were mouth watering and the sense of anticipation was building in everyone. When the nurses arrived, they took up their positions at the end of the line, commiserating with each other that the food selection wouldn’t be that great by the time they got up to where it would be distributed. Then Marjorie’s supervisor, a matronly Sergeant Major, appeared at the door to the mess hall. She nodded at Bucky then strode down the line to where the nurses were waiting.

“Ladies, I have permission to allow you to enter first,” she smiled. “Colonel Phillips himself said that your efforts to provide care to our soldiers often go overlooked. Not today. Please, follow me in, before we allow the men inside.”

Bucky, still waiting in line, frowned when he heard the murmurs of how the old man had authorized the nurses getting served first, wondering if Marjorie had told a tall tale to her supervisor to get it happening. Regardless, the looks on their faces as they walked past the long line of men was worth it and he felt good about at least thinking of it. It didn’t matter if the Colonel upstaged him because they did deserve it. All the women here deserved to be appreciated.

By the time he got his food the place was full, there was Christmas music playing, and the laughter of good cheer brought a smile to everyone. As quickly as a table was vacated, an ATS kitchen helper was at the table, wiping it down and making sure the salt and pepper shakers were full for the next batch of soldiers. As the table next to his was being cleaned by Marjorie, she leaned over to him.

“Someone told the Colonel how you made sure the nurses had pastries available to them this morning. After you left Sergeant Major Worthington announced that the nurses would get first choice for the Christmas dinner, by the Colonel’s orders. You can have your cigarettes and chocolate back.”

“Keep them,” he smiled. “A Christmas present for another lady who should be appreciated. I’m sure you’ll make good use of them.”

Her face beamed, then she leaned close to him again. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll bring your extra slice of pie out for you right away.”

Once he received it, he left, returning to his bunk and placing it on his footlocker, while he laid on top of his bed. As the other soldiers on the Commandos entered the barracks, they glanced at the tin foil covered plate, but no one took it, nor did they say anything. It was as if they already knew it was meant for someone else. Later, after most of the others were asleep, Bucky quietly put his coat on, took the plate, and slipped outside, walking in the dark towards the medical wards where Lt. Lovegood was one of two nurses on duty. Peeking in the window into the ward, he saw her at her desk, the only light in the room coming from the one on the desktop, filling in notes, and occasionally glancing up at a soldier if one made a sound of distress. Quietly pushing the door open, he coughed lightly and smiled as she looked at him from her desk. The desk lamp made a halo of light appear around her head, touching something deep inside Bucky.

“I didn’t know if you had time to have some pie before you went on duty, so I brought you a piece,” he whispered, putting the plate on the desk.

“You must have bribed the kitchen staff to save it,” she joked. “The others said the pie was gone before the turkey.”

He shrugged. “I may have called in a favour.” He lifted a chair up from the next desk and placed it near hers. “I forgot the fork.”

“I can manage,” she smiled, unwrapping the tin foil. She picked the piece up in her hand and bit the end off. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He looked around at the half-filled ward. “Quiet night.”

She nodded. “They sent some of them to London for specialized treatment. Private Worthington is still here. He got his orders to return home in a few days. Might get there before his letter does.” She took another bite of the pie and offered it to Bucky. Carefully, he bit into it as she held it to his lips. “I know by your accent that you’re from New York. What else can you tell me about yourself?”

“Brooklyn, actually,” he grinned. “I thought you didn’t want to get personal.”

“Just being friendly.”

He breathed out. “I’m 27, was a dock worker, then was in art school for technical drawing. Always wanted to be an engineer but the Depression made it hard to afford college and the money I did make went to surviving. Captain Rogers and I have known each other since we were kids. He’s the brother my parents never had, although I have a sister. I read, like to listen to music and dance. That’s me, in a nutshell.”

“You’re also a lot of fun, by what the other nurses told me,” she added. “They all think you have fine qualities but you’re not ready to settle down. Sometimes, I’ve seen you look sad, like you wish you were somewhere else.”

He scoffed lightly but didn’t contradict her, wondering if his own worries about what he was hiding from everyone were visible to someone perceptive. She didn’t ask for more, so he didn’t offer any more details.

“How long have you been a nurse?” he asked.

“Two and a half years. I was in my final year of nursing school when Pearl Harbor happened, and I signed up for the service before I graduated. Didn’t get to North Africa until the Allies had control of parts of it in late 1942. Deployed to London in July 1943 and was there until this month.” She looked over at the men who were still sleeping. “I like my job but there are days I hate it, especially when a patient is broken and I’m not talking about his body. There’s so much hurt in them, and they’ll never be the same again.”

She sighed, then lifted the pie up and took another bite, before putting it back on the plate and pushing it towards him. The sound of a patient choking drew her immediately to his bed and she looked at Bucky.

“Would you go across the hall and summon Captain Harris? This man needs help.”

He went across and opened the door to another ward, where another nurse was checking a patient while the doctor was writing in a binder.

“Lt. Lovegood needs help with a patient,” said Bucky, stepping back as the doctor strode quickly past him.

He watched from the window as she and the doctor worked on clearing the obstruction from the patient’s airway. Knowing he could do nothing, Bucky left, stepping out into the clear winter’s night. The nurses here might not be facing guns, but they faced death every day. He wasn’t sure he could do what they did. On the walk back to his barracks he thought of how much they gave of themselves to the men in their care every day, always calmly and professionally. No wonder Lt. Lovegood had been offended when he made fun of her name, making a joke about the double entendre meaning of it. That she was still pleasant to him was proof she was a better person than he was.

Over the next week, he saw the nurse in passing, occasionally saying hi. They sometimes had coffee together, with others, not saying much but being pleasant to each other. He was surprised when the night before New Year’s Eve, she made an appearance with Stella at a pub in the local town, and he stood up, gesturing to them to sit with him and several other of the Howling Commandos. It was an even bigger surprise when they accepted and a scramble to find two other chairs saw all of them putting their best behaviour on.

“What can we get you ladies to drink?” asked Major Falsworth, ever the gentleman.

“Gin and tonic for me,” said Stella.

“Rum and Coke, please,” answered Lovegood, finding herself next to Bucky. She looked around. “This is quaint.”

“It’s friendly enough,” he replied. “They’re used to us and know that we keep the riff raff out.”

“That’s because we’re the riff raff,” joked Dum Dum, who extended his hand and introduced himself. “Haven’t seen you here before Lt. Lovegood.”

“No, I haven’t gone to any of the local pubs but I’m on night duty the next two nights and Stella, Lt. Meriweather, suggested I indulge for at least one night. Do you gentlemen come here often?”

“All the time,” replied Morita. “Sarge makes the rounds of most of the pubs when he’s on the prowl although lately he’s been limited to here or the base.” He jumped in surprise then reached under the table to rub his shin. “Ow, Sarge. What did you do that for?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Private. I just moved my feet. Thought I hit the table leg.”

Both women grinned, then thanked Falsworth as he returned with their drinks. As the evening went on, and the stories became wilder and funnier, Bucky found himself more aware of Millie, which she insisted on him calling her when they were off base. She laughed at many of the stories shared by the other men, often looking at him with a big smile on her face when they brought up some of his feats that weren’t classified. It was still early when Stella returned to base, as she was on duty at 6 am. Falsworth escorted her back, claiming he wished to write a letter to his family before lights out. The other four, Dum Dum, Morita, Jones and Dernier, left together, leaving Bucky and Millie on their own. For a busy and somewhat loud pub, it was quiet at their table, as they rarely talked, then Bucky finished his beer.

“I’m ready to go back,” he said. “Are you?”

She nodded and they stepped out into the dark night, a heavy cloud cover blocking the light of a slightly waning moon. Pulling a shielded torch from her purse she shone it on the sidewalk ahead of them as they headed towards the bus stop. A boisterous group of British soldiers barrelled into them and Bucky automatically put his arm around her to shield her from their intrusion. At that moment they both saw the bus pulling away from the stop some distance away.

“Well, I guess we walk,” she said, sounding slightly resigned to the prospect. “At least it’s not too cold.”

Keeping her hand in the crook of Bucky’s arm they walked side by side, keeping their thoughts to themselves. He noticed that she was shivering and pulled his overcoat off, draping it over her shoulders, despite her objections. With a considerable distance still to go, a lorry making a delivery to the base stopped and the driver offered them both a ride. They squeezed into the front seat with him and his assistant. It wasn’t much warmer in the unheated cab, but it got them to the base faster. He let them off as he offered the guard at the gate his papers. Bucky and Millie thanked him, then checked in with the other guard, signing their names on the list to show they were back.

“Your men seem very fond of you,” she remarked as they walked the final distance to the barracks, the nurses one first, since it was attached to the infirmary and medical wards. “I haven’t laughed like that for some time. You’re very informal with the ranks in your unit, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, it seems that way,” he agreed. “Major Falsworth could have his own unit in the British Army, but he prefers to be with us, and he doesn’t put himself above anyone else, even though we’re NCO’s and enlisted. Cap is usually with us but he’s in London with the Colonel. He makes the final decision, but we arrive at it together and if something goes wrong, he takes the blame. So far, we’ve been lucky.”

They stopped at the door to the nurse’s quarters, and she took his overcoat off, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re a gentleman, Bucky. It’s one of your finest qualities.”

He smiled self-consciously, then offered her his hand. When she took it and leaned forward to kiss him where his cheek met his lips it made him speechless. Without saying anything more, she turned and went inside, leaving him touching the skin where her lips had been. It took him some time to fall asleep as he thought about possibilities in ways he never had before.

There was an air of excitement on the base the following day, as a surprise dance had been approved for the mess hall on December 31, 1944. After breakfast, the mess hall was closed to allow for the group organizing the dance the opportunity to decorate it for the occasion, with streamers and bunting everywhere. Sandwiches were on the menu for lunch and dinner, distributed to the different barracks by runners sent to the kitchen. Everyone else spent the day preparing for the evening, as lineups at the showers and lavatory sinks showed most of the soldiers were inclined to actually be clean shaven for the event. Everyone at the base, male and female were invited, and there were rumours that a real band had been formed from the ranks to entertain everyone.

It was everything that everyone expected and for those who stayed on base there was a lot of fun, even though it was officially a dry event. Several privately owned flasks were still distributed throughout the hall, topping up the coffees and soft drinks made available to the rank and file. The officers on duty turned a blind eye to it, as long as the overall behaviour remained within the bounds of propriety. Bucky made himself available for duty, keeping an eye on the goings on, although he did take a turn on the dance floor with Marjorie, showing off their Lindy to the applause of everyone who were impressed with the ease the young sergeant moved in concert with the older ATS kitchen cook who could still dance up a storm.

Afterwards, noting the time, Bucky begged off for a quick break, hurrying over to the infirmary, with a piece of cake that was baked to celebrate the coming new year. With a big smile on his face, he stepped into Millie’s ward and lost the smile when he saw her at the bedside of a new patient, a soldier who had been hit by a lorry early that morning, as he was too drunk to get out of the way and in the clouded out blackout conditions wasn’t visible to the driver until it was too late. It was in the morning report and was the reason behind the on base dance, to keep the soldiers off the streets on this night of all nights. His body, encased in several casts covering his legs and arms, was immobilized but his eyes were staring up into the ceiling. The doctor, who had been listening to the man’s chest, shook his head and stood up, then looked at the time before marking something on the man’s chart. With a clarity that sliced into him, Bucky realized the man had just died. Slowly, sadly, Millie placed the man’s hands on his chest, then drew the sheet over his head and wearily stood up. Noticing Bucky, she shook her head, not wanting to talk to him at the moment. He withdrew to the foyer between the two wards, the piece of cake still in his hand, and sat on the bench along the way, waiting for her.

After an hour or so, well after midnight, two orderlies came out of a third door with a gurney and entered Millie’s ward. Leaving the cake on the bench, Bucky watched through the window as they carefully lifted the man from the bed and onto the gurney, then covered him with another sheet and brought him out the door where he was standing, disappearing through the third door. Looking through the window, Bucky saw Millie stripping the bed of its sheets, dropping them into a hamper, then she remade the bed. Her corners were precise and perfect. The doctor said something to her, and she nodded, putting her coat on and came out the door where he was.

“Not here,” she said tersely.

He followed her outside into the crisp winter air, leaving the cake behind. She walked to where there was an open space that showed all of the night sky, thousands of stars visible to them even with the almost full moon visible and lighting up the snowy landscape. A sob escaped from her huddled body and Bucky touched her shoulder. Whirling around she buried her face in his shoulder, weeping. Enclosing her in his arms, he murmured softly to her, telling her it was okay to cry. After some time releasing her grief, she pulled herself away from him, and looked beseechingly at his face. The moon lit her hair up, catching the loose strands in its silvery light, making her look otherworldly.

“Promise me,” she cried. “Promise you’ll come back to me. Promise.”

“I’ll come back to you,” he replied. “I’ll come back, and we’ll get married and have kids and a house and a yard. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy because I love you and you deserve to be loved fully and completely.”

“You better come back to me, Bucky,” she said, just before she kissed him passionately. “Don’t break your promise.”

“Never,” he smiled, cupping her tear-stained face in his hands. “I’ll always come back to you, Millie. Always.���

Present Day

Bucky stood up from the gravestone at Arlington National Cemetery, and brushed the leaves off his knees, then wiped the remaining tears from his face. It had taken some doing to track down what happened to Mildred Lovegood, who retired from the United States Army as a full colonel during the Vietnam War. She never married, always saying she was married to the job. She died in 1985, of cancer.

“She was the one,” he said to Sam, who had helped Bucky track down the career army nurse’s gravesite. “After I died, she didn’t look for love at all. Her World War II diary in the military museum said she believed she was cursed and that any man who loved her wouldn’t come back. She was wrong; it was wartime and just the way it was for some people. I would have spent a lifetime with her; with a home, family, pets … the whole damn thing.”

He ran his hand through his hair, then took the bouquet of red roses from Sam, placing them at the base of her headstone. His friend placed a warm hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing it. Some love stories were never meant to have a happy ending. At least for this one, he would have closure and for someone who spent so long lost to time, that was a victory all in itself. With a shaky breath, Bucky nodded, and the two men turned away from the grave. At the car, Bucky looked around at her final resting place, happy that Millie had been buried there. She deserved it, being the best damn nurse he ever knew. He would make the journey there many times, making good on his promise to always come back to her. It was the least he could do.

One Shots Masterlist

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[onefootin1941]

In December of 1944, soldiers of the 84th Infantry Division decorate a Christmas tree in the cellar of a home in Westphalia, Germany.

[theworldatwar]

Soldiers of the US 2nd Infantry Division celebrate Christmas - Belgium, December 1944.

Wishing a Merry Christmas to all my amazing followers and friends, old and new. A huge thank you for all your help and support again this year - I wish you and all your families all the very best and a wonderful Christmas - Thank you so much, I really appreciate it. I’m going to have tomorrow off and then back to business on Boxing Day.

[ww2yaoi]

happy randlemartinmas

[santaiscoming]

[dietzdollspinups]

Continuing 12 straight days of pinups to celebrate the 12 days of Christmas! For the sixth day of Christmas, we have 'Front Line Surprise'! Betty’s the gift, for the boys in the fight, Sitting tall on the Sherman, a magical sight. With a salute and a smile, she’s the morale they need, A Christmas surprise for the troops to succeed.

Did you know you can order many of the pinups you see posted here? Check out the Dietz Dolls online store where you can find military pinups, classic pinups, the propaganda pinup poster series, and lots more in sizes ranging from 8x10 prints to 20x30 posters! https://www.dietzdolls.com/catalog

Created: Concept/Digital Artwork/Editing by Britt Dietz Online Pinup Print and Poster Store: https://www.dietzdolls.com/catalog © Dietz Dolls Vintage Pinup Photography: https://www.dietzdolls.com Instagram: https://instagram.com/vintagepinups Facebook: https://facebook.com/DietzPinupPhotography

[ch-postal-company]

Christmas mail

USA, 1940s

[nightsongsrandomness]

Happy holidays from the whole gang!

[w0lfchen]

🎄Merry Christmas ya'll!🎄

[blueshistorysims]

September 1942, London, England

There was a letter sitting on his desk when he returned from his lunch break. Upon a closer glance, he saw it was from General Ross, an American closely connected with intelligence, and Byron had served with him during the Great War. A simple note on the letter that read: Bridager Walsh, the favor you asked for. A. H. Ross.

He stared at the letter, a sense of dread filling him. He knew exactly what the letter was for. 

The letter was brief, though detailed enough to offer a proper explanation. Private Gardenhouse was assigned to the 93rd Infantry Division, which he knew through American intelligence was set to be sent out to the Pacific Theater, not Europe. He could not do what his ex-wife had asked of him. 

He didn’t call Stella until it was late at night, and mostly everyone had gone home. He drank three beers and two glasses full of whiskey he kept hidden in his office before he picked up the phone, listening to it ring four times before it was picked up.

“Gardenhouse Residence,” Stella spoke softly into the phone. “Who is this?”

“Hello, Stella.”

“Byron.”

 “Stella.”

She swallowed, sighing into the phone. “You have news?”

“I heard from the American general. …As you know he’s in the 93rd. It’s not completely decided, and they won’t deploy those boys until they’re completely trained, and you know the Americans will send the white troops first anyway, but… based on training and some classified plans, it is more than likely that the 93rd will be sent to the East and the 92nd will come to Europe. I’m sorry, Stella, I truly wish I could do something.”

She was silent for a while, breathing into the phone, and it became apparent she was trying not to cry. “...It was a long shot, and I shouldn’t have put it on your shoulders. It was a tremendous thing to ask.”

“I’d want to regardless. Carl is a nice boy. He has his father’s ambition and your stubbornness. He’ll get far in life.”

She snorted. “Campbell’s ambition took him a little too far. …Oh, don’t sigh like that, I know what you meant.”

Byron frowned. “If it’s any consolation. It will be some time before he’s deployed. He likely won’t be sent out until next year. Perhaps longer.”

“Do you think we ever could’ve been happy?” Stella muttered bluntly.

“If Lord Thomas Walsh’s grandson had never died. Or if my father and brother hadn’t died. …But I think it would have ended the same regardless. Do you regret eloping?”

“I don’t know. But if we hadn’t, you probably wouldn’t have met your wife, and I doubt I’d have Carl.”

He swallowed. He wouldn’t be saying this sober. “Do you think about it? The child?”

“I did a lot when Campbell died, when I was an alcoholic relying on the charity of my own brother. But now? I don’t think a child deserves to have both of us as parents. It wouldn’t have worked then. It wouldn’t have worked now.”

Byron sighed. “I never told anyone what you told me. Not even to Eleora. But my mind wanders.”

“...How much have you had to drink, Byron?”

“A pint or two. And some whiskey beforehand,” he admitted. “I don’t hold my liquor very well anymore.”

Stella swallowed loudly. “Go to bed, Byron. Enjoy your family. Thank you for looking into Carl for me.” And without another word, she hung up.

Byron sat alone in his office for some time after, staring off at the grey-painted wall, unable to describe how he felt. 

beginning/previous/next

[nocternalrandomness]

Tammy’s mistletoe and B-25 "Wild Cargo"

[forms-most-beautiful]

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence (1983)

[onefootin1941]

Photo: American soldiers decorating their Christmas tree in the captured town of Ederen, Germany. (Credit: U.S. Army Signal Corps) Book a tour here: https://www.beachesofnormandy.com/book/

[coffee-and-uhg]

London, 1940

[aviationgeek71]

Pvt Walter Prsybyla of B Btry, 37th Field Artillery Regt, US 2nd Inf Div writing Christmas cards for friends and family from an artillery ammunition storehouse, Heckhalenfeld, Germany, 30 Nov 1944

[nitewrighter]

While maybe not exactly what you're looking for as it's not really "spooky," a Christmas ghost stories we always listened to when I was growing up was one called "The Shepherd," as the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) would always run a recording of it on the radio on Christmas Eve. Both my mom and dad's sides of the family had relatives that served in the airforce in WW2, so they made listening to it a Christmas tradition.

The TL, DR: of it is that an RAF pilot is trying to fly home to Britain from Germany in the 1950s on Christmas eve, but gets caught in heavy fog and his instruments/radio stop working, but then a mysterious other plane appears and "shepherds" him home.

I can't seem to find a pure text version, but here's a youtube rip of the radio recording: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2_bLEqmBi0

And that mysterious pilot... was Santa.

#SantaTruthers