Chapter Text
August 23rd, 1943
Trees ruflle and wave in the cool breeze. Small critters scurry about carrying on with their animal lives. Men and women enjoy the sweet, vibrant jazz flowing swiftly and clean from a small underground band performing in speakeasies. But that is far away. About 4,784 miles away. Away from where two brothers sit side-by-side in the back of a GMC truck with at least fifteen other soliders doomed to share the same final resting place. The truck was traveling about 30 mph through occupied France. Brothers Dave and Dirk Strider enlisted via the new Buddy System implemented into the United States military as a big ol' "Fuck You!" to their father, they shipped overseas to aid in the European fight on their dad's birthday. Sorry old bastard can sit with the fact that both of his sons are probably going to wind up dead in a war on an entirely different continent, may he never find their brutalized corpses.
By now, the two have already excepted the fact that this war would be the end of them. They read the headlines, they heard the news on the radio. They understood that once they signed their name up on that list, two graves were made just then with thier names neatly plastered on it decorated with roses, Gave them three months to learn how to shoot a gun, gave them abs, and sent them on their merry way. But Dave and Dirk had an agreement, an oath they swore to each other. When they die, they die side-by-side. The two came into this world together and they sure as hell were going to leave it together.
The truck pulled to a screeching stop at a small camp close to the small French town, Sainte-Mère-Église. The new soldiers began filing out of the GMC. Older more experienced combatants were strewn throughought the American base camp, some of them tattered and worn, jaded and broken down. They had about two years on the fresh meat as far as fighting. There was a small group of tanks resting off to the side of the main camp, the Lieutenant Colonel came stalking over to where they stood, removing his cap, his tired hand keeping a hard grip on it. His hair was slicked back with loose ends framing his disgruntled face. He nodded to the man driving the truck, then turned to the group of inexperienced punching-bags. He pierced his lips and raised one of his eyebrows. A look of dissapointment he had no intention of hiding crossing his features.
"Well," he clapped his hands together, "aren't you the saddest batch I've seen yet. Guess all the good ones already got their balls blown off so all we have left from back home are spineless chicken-hearted dunderheads. No chance satan's hell y'all last more than a day." He shook his head and crossed his arms. "Two of our men got obliterated out there so I need at least two of you dimwitted shiteaters to come with me, they teach any of y'all how to maneuver a tank?" Dirk watched silently as the crowd shuffled their feet awkwardly and murmured shameful 'no's'. Neither him nor Dave said anything, which may have been a mistake. The Lieutenant Colonel sighed, and turned his eyes towards the two brothers. "Clearly y'all are useless, what about you, Glasses? I'm gonna assume you have the slightest shred of knowledge on basic fucking things." Shit. He directed the question at Dave who swallowed hard and adjusted his aviators. "Um, I-yes? I mean it seems kinda simple, like you got two levers and you move them." Dirk fought the urge to punch his brother's shoulder as he silently pleaded for him not to make a fool out of himself. The Colonel scoffed indignantly, giving Dave a look of amused indifference. "Oh well, unfortunately you'll have to do. Alright, Glasses, you're with me and let's see... Crazy Hair." He pointed directly at Dirk. He turned on his heel and beckoned for the two to follow. Dave flashed Dirk a look of concern before hurrying after the man. Dirk felt his blood go cold as he stepped with the other two, he kept his face poker the best he could despite his heart threatening to destroy his ribcage with how hard is was hammering against his chest. Dread raked itself across his body and clawed at his mind, threatening to shut down his limbs and keep them locked in place. Dirk knew for a fact Dave did not know how to drive a tank to save his life, in this case literally.
The Lieutenant Colonel and the two brothers crossed over to where the tanks were at a stop. There were about four of the big machines. One tank had two soldiers sticking their heads out of the top, looking scornful at the two rookies. On the other tank that had a distinct scratch likely caused by a bullet had four men leaning on it sharing cigars. Dirk found himself a bit unsettled by them, something about the look in their sunken eyes. They're uniforms stained, they had a roughness to them, an edge sharp enough to slice someone's head clean off. Nothing like he had seen on any of the rough and tumble street rats back home. They experienced soldiers had an air of apathy around them, they looked distant and numb. Devoid of any remaining bits of human emotion. Dirk swallowed.
"Alright, Glasses, you know what this is?"
"A tank."
"Well no shit, I mean model, what's the model, Smartass?"
"Oh, uh, a big model?"
The Lieutenant quirked his eyebrow and scowled at Dave, any amusement he took from him earlier wiped away.
"This," he started, patting the metal as he spoke, "is the M4A2E8 Sherman. You got that?" Dave nodded tentavely. "Alright, you can just refer to her as M4 Sherman. Get familiar with her, cause you're gonna be her driver 'til you get blown to shreds." Dirk bit back a grimace. "The last two guys died before we got here, and the only one who was left just fuckin' transferred, so you two boys are gonna be on your own for a little while until we rendevouz-- there's a French word you're gonna wanna know-- with the rest of the division. Just follow us and you should be fine." Dave nodded again, climbing up onto the tank and opening the top hatch, instead of going in he looked to Dirk. The Lieutenant then turned and addressed him, "Okay, now you, Crazy Hair, you register everything I just told him?" Dirk nodded. "Okay, well, for now you're gonna be the gunner, we can't have y'all runnin' out into a battlefield with no gunner. Chances are we will encounter some Krauts between here and Carentan, so you'll need at least some defense. Stay behind the rest of the crew for now." Dirk nodded again, hopping up and joining his brother by the opened hatch. The Lieutenant turned on his heel and addressed the meek excuse of a tank crew, "Alright, Maggots, saddle up we're rollin' out!"
All the soldiers clambered back into their vehicles after each one casted a small, pitiful glance at the two brothers. Dave and Dirk hopped down into the tank, closing the opening as they did. "Well shit dude, we're really doing this, we're actually in a fucking war now." Dave made his way to the steering levers and positioned himself the best he could. "Yeah, can't say I'm thrilled by the idea of getting evaporated by the damn Germans first thing but oh well." Dirk replied, finding the tank's mini guns.
For a moment, it was almost completely silent, only the sound of the two brothers' heavy breathing could be heard. But then one, then two, joined by another, then finally them, all their tanks had roared to life as they prepared to head into the fray.