Love You Till The End (Robert Zussman x Reader)

46 - Y/N L/N

We haven't completely lost ourselves and I'm thankful for that because there are soldiers, especially the new recruits*, who can't handle the situations being a soldier puts them through and all the pieces of who they once were fly away. There are some soldiers who become cold while others suffer from fear and break apart until it gets them killed. This doesn't apply to all soldiers, but we've seen it happen.

I fear something like that happening to one of us and even if it doesn't happen now, could it happen to us if we return to civilian life? Could we become like my father and many other Great War veterans who shake with fear even though they're not on the battlefield anymore? Or will we find some peace of mind? I sure hope so.

"Helluva Christmas, huh, fellas?" Stiles asked.

"Oh, yeah," Aiello said sarcastically. "Why would I wanna be cuddled up by a nice warm fire with my gal, when I could be freezin' my ass off with you bastards?"

Stiles let out a chuckle as he rubbed his gloved hands together which surprised me since he's hardly amused by the things Aiello says.

"That actually sounds like a nice idea, Aiello. I already got my girl, but all I'm missing is a fire and for our clothes to be off," Zussman said and Daniels started to laugh. It took me a moment to realize what he had said and I playfully shoved him when I did.

"You men really are something." I glanced at Aiello and Stiles who were stifling their laughter.

"Hey, he said it, not me." Aiello held his arms up as if he were surrendering.

"Oh shit. Incoming." Stiles' face became serious as he looked at something behind Zussman and me.

"Aiello, get back on the MG," I heard Pierson say. I looked to my right to see him towering over our trench with his canteen in hand.

"Yes, Sergeant." Aiello slowly got on one knee and grabbed ahold of the MG dug into the ground in front of our trench. I watched as he checked its ammo.

"Sergeant, any extra coats or blankets?" Daniels asked.

"You look just fine to me."

I noticed Stiles make eye contact with Daniels and raise his eyebrows at him, hinting back to how he said Pierson's been stingy with supplies lately.

"East dugout got hit all night," Pierson explained. "Grab an ammo box; you're gonna resupply 'em."

"I take that ammo, Aiello's gonna run dry," Daniels remarked.

"Well, then I guess you better make every goddamn shot count," Pierson said before walking off.

Once again, Pierson hit us with an order that we didn't like, but still had to be carried out. I watched as Daniels got up with his jaw clenched, clearly frustrated as he grabbed the ammo box from Stiles and walked off.

"Hey, L/N," someone said from behind me. I turned around to see Private Finley, a young man of 18 from Michigan who had joined our platoon just last month.

"Hey, Finley. How's the leg doing?" I climbed out of the trench and stood in front of him.

"It's-It's doing a lot better. Still sore though," he answered as he looked down at his right leg.

"Yeah, the soreness is no fun, but it'll leave eventually."

"Look at you, Finley." Aiello walked up from behind me. "Wounded on your first day and now you're up and ready to fight again."

"Uh, yeah." Finley rubbed his arm nervously. "Although I'd much rather be eating a Christmas dinner right now."

"You ain't the only one, kid," Aiello said, "but you sure look like you could use a few extra pounds."