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The smell of salt and iron fills the the ocean air. What Roman wishes in this very moment is a millisecond of peace and quiet without the booming noises of the Nazis approaching or the screams of a young soldier getting a limb amputated. He grips his rifle to his chest, his head still throbbing from the ambush the Nazis recently pulled on his battalion. He has to constantly remind himself that he is the Representative of France and Roman Jules Cadieux has certainly never surrendered before a fight. At least, that’s how Roman makes himself feel better. Feeling the breeze of the port hit his face, he closes his eyes and remembers the promise his friend, August had made him.
“If you’re ever in trouble, I’ll be your guardian angel, Roman. I would never let you get hurt on my watch.” Roman smiles to himself as he remembers that warm memory. It was back then when WWI had finally ended. They had both promised eachother that night, finishing it off as a toast. The only other memory of that night was them two holding each other up stumbling down the dark street as they sang loud bar songs together when they were kicked out of that bar for making too much of of a ruckus. August was always a lightweight. And Roman would always enjoy the non-sensical rambles and stories, the sober August would be too embarrassed to admit himself.
“Marshal! Do you see that in the distance,” yells an observant soldier to him. Roman whips his head around, running up to the dock; he sees the sight of hundreds of boats—small and big—coming up from the horizon line. He sighs in relief, he’s here to save us.
“August…”, Roman murmurs under his breath, watching the ships get ever so closer; imagining seeing a clumsily waving figure in the distance, jumping with joy until he falls unbalanced and stabilizes himself with his cane. His lieutenant walks up behind him as he still stands quietly waiting for them to dock. He turns his head, smiles softly, and waits for him to say something.
“Marshal, are you still sure about your decision to stay? We don’t know how the British Representative will react—you said it yourself, he might act irrationally,” asks the lieutenant.
“And I’m sure he will. But I’ll get him to calm down. We’re close… comrades. I’ll get him to understand. Just get the injured and the remaining soldiers out of here. My company and I will be staying. No matter what.”
The lieutenant salutes him as the blaring horn of the larger ship roars in the distance. “God bless you, sir. May fortune be in your favor.” As the lieutenant walks pass him in order to anchor the ship down, he shoulder-bumps him in a playful gesture. “Knock ‘em dead, Cadieux,” he said.
“Thank you, Hugo,” Roman said in response, “I’ll make sure.”
The Englishman is finally let off the ship and within just moments of placing his foot down on the wooden dock, he runs off to embrace Roman. Roman, scared for August’s already deteriorating leg runs back at him in order to catch him in case he falls. In which he does, sending off his cane and sending himself into Roman’s arms. He yelps as they crash together but the adrenalines sends the British Representative into a laughing mess. He wipes a tear from his eye and brings Roman up to hug him.
“Are you okay? You look okay, well—not okay. Wait, that’s not what I meant…,” The Englishman continued to ramble on about his worries for Roman’s health. Bringing up his arms and walking around him to do an inspection to see if he has any visible wounds.
“August…”, Roman whispers, flattered that he cared so much about him. “You idiot!” Roman grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him back and forth, in order to get that noggin to work correctly. “Did you know how much of a risk that was? Running to me when you have a leg as fragile as your ego? You already have one foot! I might as well gnaw it off myself if you ever do that again!”
He stopped shaking him finally, only to be met with a well-meaning but dumbfounded expression. Roman grinned in annoyance.
“Hah… can’t a man embrace his good ol’ friend?” August said in response. A bit shaken up by the trip and actual shaking. He grinned back at Roman, his eyes creasing with his genuine expression of relief on his face, knowing his friend wasn’t harmed. “I’m glad you’re okay, Roman. I was worried I would’ve found you on a stretcher or worse…” He fixed his glasses, straightening it to be parallel with his gray eyes. August ran his hands down Roman’s arms once more, checking if the Frenchman winced at any spot. “Let’s get you and your soldiers on that ship now.”
Roman’s eyebrows furrowed; his smile began to dissipate. “August…”
“What? Are you going to tell me you’re going to stay in this hellhole?” August said. Motioning to the disarray and clutter on the beach.
Roman looked back at the beach then looked back at August. His eyes softened with a sense of solemnness. “I’m sorry, I have to stay here to defen— “
“—you’re joking! I came all this way just for you to stay here? This place isn’t safe!” August yelled.
“Of course, it isn’t safe. And it would be better if you got out of here quicker then. I promised my men that I would stay to defend my country. If I go on that ship, it’ll look like I went back on my word and running away like a coward.”
August’s eyes contracted, an overwhelming sense of betrayal washing over him. “You promised me.”
“What?”
“You promised me that we would keep eachother safe. Now, you’re just telling me to leave you behind on the battlefront?” August grabbed Roman’s arm and tightened his grip. “I’m not having you leave me ever again.”
Roman’s face was written all over with regret. “I never left you before… I… August, what are you talking about...,” he cleared his throat. “I can’t leave my country behind when I can still fight for it.”
August gripped tighter like Roman would fly away, he gritted his teeth. “Oh, what? You’re going to sacrifice yourself? You’re already a living martyr for damn’s sake!” He pulled him closer. “You don’t need to do this.”
Taking August’s grip off of him, he wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, August. But I can’t go with you.”
“Bastard…”, The Englishman sweared under his breath. August’s throat tightened, “What if… Roman, what if.”
Smiling dejectedly, Roman said, “No. I wouldn’t. I could even fight satan without a scratch— “
August loudly choked back some tears. His eyes welling up with both angry and grief-stricken tears. He closed in again. Resting his face into the crook of Roman’s neck. In a last-ditch effort, he locked his arms around the Frenchman’s waist. One more sign for Roman to know to not stay.
Roman turned to look at August. Then at his soldiers. Then at the beach. Then finally he looked overhead to see the clouds of smoke and smog rising from the distance far away. He stared solemnly, cradling the man in his comfort. Consoling him as he threaded his fingers through his hair. He felt his throat closing up, swallowing down a pounding heart.
Then he pushed him off, speaking to his lieutenant up ahead; he said, “Hugo. Take the British Representative back to his ship.”
“What?”, August pulled back, his face red and tears streaming down his face.