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It wasn’t fair, God– or whoever the fuck it was upstairs– was pulling her leg. First, he was making her heart race, then everything started to crash and malfunction in her psyche. He isn’t perfect, lord, far from it, but despite how many times she would build up her defenses, they would crumble like sandbags. The sound of his pompous, commanding voice, those pale, pinkish scars, and the rat-tat-tat of his Strumgewner ‘44. He has become her ultimate kryptonite.
Marie’s team was getting steamrolled by the enemy. Conquest, down to 283 tickets versus 401. Outside of Hannut, Belgium, her and her unit were pinned in an abandon church. It was just them at the objective, when about three German squads flanked the church’s graveyard, coming in from their second deployment. One moment, her and Frank were about to ambush one of their Half-track vehicles, then, there was a deafening blast. The two Americans were flung thirty feet from their positions. Her vision was swimming, as she could barely see; a gash on her her forehead runs a stream of blood over her good eye. Marie tries to prop up, only to collapse, her shattered elbow jots pain up to her neck. She tilts her head, just in time to see Frank lie limp next to a gravestone. That’s when she saw him.
Among Germans shouting, his voice stood out, much more of a typical, but feared commander, than a blind patriot. She couldn’t pin his accent, but thank heavens it wasn’t Munich. Stepping over her comrade’s corpse, Marie’s eyes trail up the newcomer’s form. From his knee-high, service boots, to the flow of his overcoat, covering his Wehrmacht officer uniform. His shoulders were wider than hers, but lean. He definitely stood out. He walks with confidence, no the usual swagger walk that Frank would do to impress the other infantry women on their team. But with this was different, there was some type of grace? Elegance? She couldn’t understand nor explain it, but she was entranced… while lying ‘half-dead’ at his feet.
Then they would make eye contact. Ah, so this was one of the Axis’ Elites. Marie could’ve sworn her raspy breathy hitched at the sight of his face. It was glaring at first, having the afternoon sun burning her retinas. But as they adjusted, she got a look at his scars, jagged from underneath what seemed like a reconstruction mask, which covered where his right eye used to be. His skin wasn’t entirely pale, but because of his burned scars, he was pinkish, in a way. Almost like a fucking mole-rat, or something. He had a plethora of wrinkles, and his only eye was practically sunken into his socket, which made Marie believe that he had to be in his fifties. But by the shape of his gray-blue eye, it was possible that he may be a decade younger. Either way, he has managed to make her fading heart to skip a damn beat.
The German, after a good five seconds, snaps back to his unit. His voice echos out the church’s yard. He tosses an empty Panzerfaust tube aside.
“Los, holen wir uns das ziel!”
Marie follows his lean figure, the ends of his coat drapes behind him, nearly shielding her from the sun’s rays. As her vision darkened, she knew that this would become a reacquiring issue.
“Well, that was a fucking abysmal,” Duncan, her team’s engineer, scowled, approaching their signature spot, snatching his cap off his dome.
Marie, sitting at nearby crate, nearly flinches at his vulgar frustration, before continuing cleaning and reassembling her Turner rifle. Both Charlie and Beta squads gather at the map’s central battery with the rest of the Allies. There is a mixed atmosphere of tension and relief.
“Just be glad that the day is over with,” James, their scout, replied tiredly, following Duncan.
But their engineer was right though, the match ended with a whimper, crushed by the Axis. Both Charlie and Beta squads gather at the map’s central battery with the rest of the Allies. The round ended in twelve, short minutes, a major defeat and their third one today. There was a mixed atmosphere, with Marie’s team being a proximity of the enemy team. Laughter could be heard from the German’s assault soldier, Gunter. His laid-back presence only peeved the already, aggravated Duncan, who had to deal with him destroying his fortifications.
As Marie emptied her rifle’s magazine, her eyes caught someone in her peripheral, just as she lifted her head. She could’ve sworn she strained her neck as she snaps her head to catch him leaning, nonchalantly against some heavy crates. He grimaces at his wrist watch, before folding his arms over chest, watching his men go about packing up their Half-track. The infantry woman got a chance to have a closer look at the man, seeing is light blue scarf, somewhat secured around his neck. She gives his fashion sense an approved nod.
‘Hmm, not bad, didn’t notice that earlier. A pretty color on him,’ Marie silently acknowledged. her eyes trail up to his facial scars, a now, better look at him. That’s when she began to question his features, raising a brow at his lack thereof one. Wait, how old is he, like, really? And is this dude a burn victim, or does he just have alopecia? Because there isn’t a speck of hair on him, from the looks of it, bald as hell and no eyebrow. Wait… he does have a hairline, and it’s not receding… but, had more wrinkles than that blue, old Luftwaffe veteran he hangs around. What the hell?
She shook the thought aside, ‘not now,’ she thought. The early, evening sun suddenly beamed down on her warm, river oak skin, hitting the back of her neck, as soon as she stepped out from the livestock pin. Marie’s boots firmly plant into the mud, she sinks, barely an inch in. Did she catch herself from approaching him? And then what, asked him if he likes jazz? As if that would work, for all she knew, the man could be a full-fledged Nazi, or anti-social… or both.
Aw, fuck, she’s staring again, is she? As she snapped out of it, both of them would make eye contact again. She flinched nearly stumbling back, while he stood still. His good eye widen, however, by a fraction, before relaxing it. Marie squinted, noticing his long gaze. Was he checking her out, really? She looks down at her dirtied uniform, a result of an intense match, rolling and gliding in mud and gravel. She grimaced at the stains, slowly feeling mostly disgusted than self-conscious. Man, where was their Captain, she could use a shower. Speaking of that… Marie lets go of the helm of her shirt to then lift up her left arm and sees her stained pit. With a quick whiff, she wrinkles her nose in mild disgust. She knew she stank, but not predicted to be this bad.
That’s when she heard a quiet laugh- no, a giggle. Marie snaps her gaze back to the German officer, caught him in the act, giggling at her disgruntled face, with a smile on his lips. There was no way, a grown ass… that came from him? Lowering her arm, puzzled, but also struck with awe at the sound that emitted from him, the infantry woman finally snaps back to reality. Definitely feeling more self-conscious, she gives the man a stiff, friendly wave. It made her heart do a flip when he returns her gesture, mirroring hers but more savvy. What the heck was that?
“That was Wilhelm Tannstedt… or however you pronounce it,” Duncan uttered to Marie, as they loaded their last duffel bags into the back of their issued jeep.
“Wilhelm, huh? Definitely suits the guy, from what Frank and I saw out there.” Marie replied with a grunt, climbing into her seat. “Had that arrogant feeling when he took over Bravo.”
Wilhelm, an elegant name, she thought. He was tough fella, she hated to admit, as she remembered how often he would be catch off guard, during the battle. The first set of times she was killed by the German she never got a full glimpse of him, as he would be out of the scene, or when the map gave him immediate Karma. Fair is fair. But after having a close counter with Wilhelm and made their first, non-verbal contact, Marie knew that there was more to the officer, than he lets on. A force to be reckoned with, a couple of soldiers would say, but to her, there was an odd sense of beauty from the German.
“You’re staring off, Fremont,” James announced with a smug grin, looking over his shoulder, turning on the Jeep’s ignition. Marie chuckles and gives her comrade an eye roll, too tired to reply or engage in Duncan and Frank’s conversation that became noise to her. She couldn’t tell her team about how Wilhelm’s features makes her have a double take, or how his laugh- lord, his laugh, would make her weak.
‘It’s just a crush, gotta stop that before it gets bad,’ Marie internally scolded herself, as they hit a bump in the dirt road, getting further back to the present. She shouldn’t go far with this, already, she felt like she was idolizing the enemy. And from the way how both her and Wilhelm stood, she would waste herself, trying to get some overconfident Kraut’s attention, before leading to disappointment. But when she looks over her shoulder, to catch the man gazing her way, she shudders. Yeah, this was going to be an issue for the infantry woman.