What are men to rocks and mountains

The beginning

That's why, on the 1st of December, 1944, he was firmly stood in one of Button House's many run-down corridors, in front of a solid, oak wooden door that seemed to loom over it with the knowledge of what it held inside. It was a door that led to a cluttered yet organized study of a very familiar Captain, and it was a room that Havers had visited thousands of times before without problem. But now, as he stood with a carefully written letter in his hands, with a big red stamp that said 'ORDER OF TRANSFER'- he found himself anxious.

He sighed deeply before lightly tapping on the door, unsure if the Captain was still awake. Knowing him, and his love for anything that was not related to actually getting some god damned rest, he probably wasn't, but Havers supposed it couldn't hurt to be careful. He didn't need to worry though, because he after a few tense seconds, the old door creaked open very slightly, and the rigid posture of the Captain was visible through the crack. As light poured into the corridor from behind the Captain, Havers let out a relieved sigh. Things like this were always easier at night than they were in broad daylight. Everything always seemed more real under the blaring lights of the sun. He was pulled out of his train of thought when the Captain spoke in a soft and hushed voice.

"Havers? What in god's name are you doing here at this hour? What's going on?" The tone of his voice was concerned. He probably knew an impromptu visit from a second-in-command was not a very good sign. Especially not when it was the middle of the night and Germany was currently planning on cutting of the entirety of the North-Holland food supply for the winter. The Captain opened the door quickly and ushered his friend inside, closing the door as quickly but softly as he could, as to not wake any of the other soldiers in the rooms down the hall.

"What is it Havers? News from the front-lines?" he said shortly, with an air of concern and a furrowed brow. Havers shook his head quickly, fumbling with the letter in his hands that he now suddenly didn't quite know what to do with. Maybe he was making a mistake... Leaving Button House, his comrades, his friends... the Captain...

"No." he said firmly. Both to himself and his commanding officer. "No, there's no bad news from the front-lines." For a short moment, the Captain looked relieved, that is, until he noticed the sour look on Havers' face.

"What is it then? Come on, let's not dilly-dally, we've got important work to do you know. This war is not going to win itself." He quipped, hoping to either escalate or resolve the poignant air hanging in the crowded office.

"It's just, Capt- Sir... I'm not quite sure how to say it-" He hesitated, stumbling over his words. He really should have gone over this before knocking on that damned door.

"Say what? Spit it out Havers!" The Captain said with a slight chuckle, laying his hand comfortably on his friend's shoulder. Oh how Havers would miss that.

"It's just... I've decided to get stationed at the front-lines sir. Tunisia, Sir. Operation Guildford, as I'm sure you're aware. Allied forces from overseas are on their way and I cannot stand to see a single more of our soldiers die." He paused for a second. Not quite knowing how to bets express his desire to end this war, end this bloodshed.

He looked at the Captain, who could only stare at him with wide eyes. The Captain, who had not seen this news coming at all, was shocked beyond belief. He and Havers were a team, they had been a team for years and he had assumed they would be for more years to come. He was a fool to expect that they could go on together forever. A war was made to be won after all, no fight can last forever, just as no alliance could last forever.

"I... I don't know what to say Havers." the Captain began softly. He knew it was futile to I try and keep his second-in-command from doing something he had already made his mind up about, but how he longed to tell him he strongly disagreed with his idea. "You know I cannot follow you, dear friend. My duty is still here, at Button House. I can't abandon our operation now. You know how vital our work here is. I... I don't think I can do it without you." He continued, even more softly.

The lieutenant pressed his lips together into a fine line, eyes already growing a bit damp at the look gracing the Captain's face. This was the part he was most worried about. How could he ever leave his commanding officer like this? His most trusted and beloved friend? He shook his head to clear his mind. He had already signed the paperwork. He would be deploying tomorrow. It was just a matter of telling his commander.

"Now our work here is vital Sir, but if the information our undercover agent provided is correct, we will finally have a chance to win this war once and for all. Our work here is wrapping up, and the only place I am needed right now, is at the battlefield...Cap." The mention of the nickname at the end of his speech made the Captain snap up from where he had been mournfully staring at the dusty-coloured carpet beneath his feet. He swallowed deeply, and with a hoarse voice asked:

"When, pray tell, will you be deploying then, Havers?" The tone of his voice was heart-breaking, and Havers felt his own eyes fill with tears before he managed to swallow them down.

"Tomorrow, Sir." It was all the answer he could manage. All the answer his Captain needed.

"Thank you Cap." He wanted to say. "Thank you for giving me your trust, your friendship, your love". He wanted to say it. Oh how he wanted to say it. But after a pregnant pause, where neither of them managed to say anything, the room grew cold as The Captain's gaze hardened and he cleared his throat.

"Very well lieutenant. I thank you for your service while under my command. I wish you good health and the best of luck at your new station. Good night." He said, as he stood up and walked towards the door, opening it. It was a clear signal if Havers had ever seen one. He followed the Captain's lead and stood up, making his way over to the opened door with a bowed head, unable to make eye-contact with his commander.

"Thank you, Cap. For everything." He managed to croak out through a hoarse throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Captain nod curtly, his posture stoic and his face set.

"Yes. Thank you as well, Havers. I've thoroughly enjoyed working with you." He said shortly, avoiding eye-contact as his Lieutenant stepped through the door into the corridor.

And before he could think of an answer, the door was shut in his face, and all he could hear from The Captain was a pained sigh through the thick, worn-out, wooden door.

"I wish it could have ended differently..." The Lieutenant whispered at the door. And as he stepped onto the dry, sandy roads outside of the Tunisian airbase he heaved a shuddery sigh once again.

How he wished he could have a second chance. He'd anticipated it, death. He'd known it was coming when he signed up for the front-lines. He'd welcomed it too, gladly- to protect his fellow man through the horrors of battle. But as he felt himself slipping away on that battlefield, he couldn't help but think of all the missed opportunities. All the shots he didn't take. All the things he hadn't said. And he couldn't help but think... "I wish it could have ended differently."