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The world seemed to be drained of color. There were only dull traces that proved that once, a long time ago, the world was a happier place. A place blessed with purples and yellows, flowers and sunshine. A place with love and happiness. A place where children played in the streets and dogs ran on lawns. A place where a man would take his wife out for a picnic. Now all that was left were browns and dull greens. Whites and greys. No happiness, no color it seemed.
I imagined Bastogne must have once been a beautiful place. The sun shining through the green leaves of the trees, giving the forest a warm inviting glow. Flowers blooming in patches around trees, waiting to be plucked. Now it was grey. The sky filled with dark clouds and oddly ash colored snowflakes. The brown earth too, dusted with a jacket of white fluffy powder, looked drab and depressing. Trees fallen over or blown apart.
The only colors I managed to find were blues and purples. The color of chapped lips on frozen men. Pinks on noses and cheeks from the wind cutting through bone. The cold first drained the soldiers of color, then decorated them with signs of frostbite.
And then there was red. The color of loss and grief. It was once so beautiful, the color of the roses that grew on the bush in the garden. The color of sundresses and beach towels. Now all the color was, was blood. Thick, red, tacky blood covering everything.
The sound of an engine traveled through the quiet forest, growing louder as the vehicle came nearer. I was surprised I still noticed the familiar noise. The jeeps were in and out of the area so many times each day that I would have thought my brain would tune it out by now, just like it had the sound of the airplane’s engines before a jump, or the rumble of the trucks as we drove to a new destination.
I was tempted to check if Eugene was on the jeep. He’d been gone for hours and I was beginning to get a little worried. I was supposed to watch the line, but in the dark night I could barely make out anything beyond the rim of my foxhole. The German soldiers that were stationed in the town weren’t stupid enough to light a fire so I doubted we would notice if something was happening in Foy.
Before I could even turn around to look and see if I could find the jeep, a body jumped into my foxhole beside me, my heart leaping out of my chest in fright.
“Hey there.” Eugene’s voice quietly spoke. His familiar accent washed over me like a warm shower, relief flooding my body as he settled beside me.
“Hi Gene.” I whispered back, leaning into his side to steal some of his warmth. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” The medic mumbled. “You been moving around a bit? Ya gotta keep moving or you’ll get trench foot.”
“I know Gene.” I smiled. Eugene always worried about his men, always encouraging them to eat something, have some coffee, keep moving. Never did he think to stop and take care of himself instead. He was too good for us.
We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, looking out at the dark night beyond our feet. I was curled into his side, head resting on his shoulder and hugging his arm.
“You miss home?” He spoke suddenly, his voice laced with sleep.
I had to think about it. I definitely missed the warmth and familiarity of home. I missed my bed and the smell of the flowers in the garden. I missed the sounds of children playing in the street and the colors of the sky as the sun set behind the lake. What I didn’t miss was the feeling of loneliness I was left with when I was there. Both my parents had passed away years ago, when I was just a kid. After that, my brothers were always gone, working so that we could all eat that night. And then when the war first broke out, both of them were forced to enlist leaving me completely alone until I turned 18 and enlisted myself.
“Y/N?” Eugene snapped me out of my thoughts.
“I don’t know. There’s not much left for me there. I just miss the comfort, you know? The peace, the warmth, the food. My bed…”
“What about your family?” Eugene questioned, turning to look at me. I gave him a weak smile.
“They ain’t home. My parents passed away in a car accident years ago. One of my brothers got killed in Normandy on D-day. Fuck knows where the other one is. I mean I guess I still miss them, but going back wouldn’t help with that.”
Eugene nodded, his brows knitted together in a frown. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I pulled up my blanket a little as an icy gust of wind swept through the forrest.
“Oh I forgot. I got ya something.” The medic sat up and started ruffling through his bag. The same bag he had carried around since D-day, dirty and well used. It was usually stuffed with bandages, morphine, plasma, you name it. Now it was almost empty, there were not enough supplies for the aid stations, let alone the medics in the field. For days, Eugene and Spina had been going around, searching for more morphine, bandages, stealing aid kits from the men and risking a trip to Dog company to see if they had anything to spare.
“Here, it’s nothing special. It just, well it made me think of you.” He handed me a piece of fabric so yellow, it almost seemed to give light. It was the first bright color I had seen since we entered the Ardennes nearly a week ago.
He was right, it wasn’t anything special. Just a piece of colored fabric. But to me it was everything. The color was a symbol of hope to me, a sign that better times were ahead. A reassurance even.
“I know it’s stupid, it’s just fabric. I thought you might like the color though.” Eugene said quietly.
“No, no it’s not stupid. Gene, I love it.” I gushed, grabbing his face and planting a kiss on his hairline. “Thank you.”
The medic’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas day, eyes glittering and a faint blush dusting his cheeks. A small smile crept onto his lips and he pushed his chin down into his jacket to hide it. He always did that, hiding his smile. He’d cover his mouth with his hand, or he’d quickly shove a cigarette between his lips. He’d hide in his jacket and look down and pretend to be somewhere else.
“Why do you do that?” I blurted. I hadn’t meant to ask the question, but there it was.
He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Do what?”
“Hide your smile. It’s okay to let people see you happy, you know.” I nudged his shoulder.
He smiled again, lips curling up and a dimple forming in his cheek. He didn’t hide it that time, instead looking right at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn’t recognize.
“You know why that reminded me of you?” He motioned to the fabric I was still holding tightly. I shook my head, waiting for him to continue.
“Well you know how most colors are associated with an emotion? Like blue is sad, and angry is red. Well Yellow is associated with happiness. And you make me happy.”
I was quiet, shocked by his confession. My heart swelled, a smile forming on my lips. Eugene and I had been close since Toccoa. Even though he always tried to distance himself from everyone, I hadn’t let him do that. I’d taken an interest in the quiet man from Louisiana, so focussed on his training. Ever polite and respectful, following orders without question. He was never scared to correct someone if they made a mistake, but kept quiet most of the time besides that. It wasn’t until we were at Aldbourne in England that I realized I felt different about Eugene than I did about the other men in Easy. Of course I never did anything with it, too scared they’d kick me out of the Airborne after all my hard work.
“I make you happy?”
“You do.” The smile was evident in his voice. I felt his hand on my cheek, his other covering my own as I clung to the fabric.
I looked up at him, his eyes searching my face for a sign to back off. He didn’t find one, so he moved closer, his warm breath fanning over my face.
“May I?” He whispered, eyes flickering down to my lips.
I bit my lip to hide the smile, nodding softly. “You may.”
Eugene wasted no time in closing the gap, his hand pulling my face to meet his own, his lips closing over mine. The kiss left me feeling warm and fuzzy as both of us poured everything we had into it. I never wanted it to end. My hands tangled in his dark hair, his hands holding my face so carefully it was as though he was afraid I would break. I was the first to pull away for air, resting my forehead against his.
“Y/N?” Eugene asked.
“Mhm?”
“I have a confession.”
“Yeah?” I asked him, moving away a little to look at him. His hands moved down to grasp mine and he looked at them as he played with my fingers.
“I love you.” He said confidently, but he never looked away from our hands, his head down, hiding his face from me. Smiling I reached over to guide his chin up so I could look at him. He looked like a puppy, eyes big and bright looking up at me hopefully.
“I love you too, Gene.”