riot | william pierson

Chapter 14 - Home?

a/n: i was planning on writing about the battle of mateur BUT I literally could only find 1(!) real article about it and it was so confusing and didn't have that much information (actually about 0 information) about the actions of the 16th infantry regiment in mateur that I decided to not include it in great detail, sorry about that D:

May 8, 1943, somewhere in Tunisia

It's the first in a long time we're actually enjoying ourselves again. Sitting, chatting, drinking in a bar. The last mission, Mateur, was hard, but only took about 4 days. At least for us. We got there relatively late; some other divisions had already put up a hell of a fight. But we were there when the Germans retreated. They finally realized that they were done here in Africa. It's been about a week since then.

Right now, we're celebrating our victory. The message that the last German and Italian commanders are capitulating was omnipresent. We did it.

Everyone's dancing and laughing and drinking. Okay, well not everyone. Aiello and I are only drinking. Though we are more than happy that we won this, we are also still mourning. The victory reminds us of what we've lost, the sacrifices made. Parents lost their children. Children lost their fathers. Women lost their husbands. We lost friends. Our best friends. Maybe I wouldn't be this sad about their loss if they died in a different way. But they died all because one man made a wrong decision. All because one man was too stubborn. But I can't know for sure.

Aiello's staring at the table, occasionally taking a sip from his beverage. His eyes are emotionless, dead. I can't really say if he's drinking to forget or drinking to kill himself. Or maybe he's just trying not to throw up all over the table.

I am downing one drink after another myself, trying to drown the pain. From time-to-time Turner looks over worriedly - probably making sure I'm not passing out. I wouldn't even mind if I did.

Pierson didn't even bother to show up. Might be for the best. For him and for me.

Someone says a toast to the fallen. I don't listen, I don't want to listen.

"What do they even know," Aiello murmurs, taking another sip before finally passing out. Oh shit.

"I don't want to hear that," I say and get up. My heads turning as I do so and I'm afraid I might've fallen if someone did not catch me. It's obviously not Aiello, who caught me. It's Turner.

"Woah, careful," he takes the glass out of my hand, "I think you've had enough for today."
I nod, holding onto his arm.

"Yeah."

"Let's get you to bed."

He leads me out of the bar.

"Aiello!" I shout and try to break away from him to get back inside to my best friend, but Turner's grip is too strong.
"I'll get him once I brought you to safety."

Outside, he pushes me down on a rock nearby, right underneath a lamp. It's me in the spotlight!

"Stay here. I'll be right back, I forgot something." And he leaves. Great. Now it's just me and my empty head.

I stare into the distance, noticing a silhouette getting closer, swaying but trying to steady themselves. I squint my eyes but to no use. I can't see shit.

The person stops a few meters away from me and drinks something from a flask.

"Drunk?" he asks. I nod, making a face.

"Yeah, me too," he says.

I look up at him and none of us say a word. We just keep staring at each other. And suddenly all the pain I've tried so hard to drown bottles up again.