Chapter 3
“Ahh, Dum Dum you’re going to break my leg if you push any harder,” Bucky writhed as Dugan pressed his big hands into the wound in his thigh. The Commandos had all met up and the rendezvous point with Dugan’s group having made it first as they had already been on the way back.
“Looks like Stark needs to make us armored long johns,” Dugan joked, though his tone was light his face was solemn. The wound was not dire, having missed the bone and major arteries and could easily have been worse. Bucky even managed to hop himself to the predestinated spot with help from Gabe and Falsworth, though he was pale and exhausted when finally they made it. But it was still bleeding through the blonde’s fingers and was very painful.
“More clothes,” Dernier said, speaking English in a rare moment. The French man handed over a spare rag. “Leaky.”
“Just a bit,” Falsworth said as he paced around the makeshift camp. They were still very close to the perimeter. The Brit stood guard, but he was also keeping an eye out for their Captain, who had yet to return.
Another 30 minutes past, before Steve made it. The bleeding had stopped and the wound bandaged. Bucky leaned quietly against a rock, covered with Gabe’s coat, and didn’t respond when Steve arrived.
“How is he?” Steve asked.
“Doing alright, considering,” Gabe answered, he had acted as their makeshift medic, being the only one with any skill in medicine. “But I’ll be able to stitch it when Morita comes back from the truck.”
“And you guys?”
“The rest of us are fine.” Falsworth answered. “We stalled being discovered with a radio one of the soldiers was carrying. Gabriel has been giving false reports, but it won’t fool them for long.”
Falsworth informed the Captain of what they had seen and how Bucky was hurt. In that time, Morita had returned from a supply run, bringing more bandages and ammunition. Dugan reported the presence of a main road a couple of klicks from their current position, there seemed to be the most traffic. They had also located where the POWs were being kept in a building closest to the main workshop.
“That’s not our only problem,” Steve began. “There are women and children being held in some of the more central buildings. Probably as leverage against the men mining.”
“If we launch an open assault, they will be slaughtered,” Falsworth stated.
“Faire un appel à la radio. Dessinez le soldat hors de la ville et de la rue.” Dernier said quickly. Make a call on the radio. Draw the soldiers out of the city and off the streets.
Steve paused for a moment, weighing the possibilities. “We can’t wait much longer or our cover will be blown. Radio Colonel Phillips. It will take him at least a day to get here, but we’ll need them when they do. Gabe and Dernier will free the civilians and sent them in this direction into the woods. Falsworth and Dugan free prisoners, get to the storerooms arms, we’ll need the man power. Morita and I will head to the offices get our hands on whatever we can.”
It was much easier said than done, each pair will have to get into position without being discovered.
“What about me?” Bucky ground out, sitting up and brushing aside Gabe’s restraining hands.
“No, Buck. You’ll only make your leg worse.” Steve responded, despite his old friend shaking his dark, sweaty head the entire time.
“I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”
“You won’t be able to do much with your leg,” Steve insisted.
“Maybe not,” Morita interrupted. “But maybe you can do something with this,” pulling out a Springfield sniper rifle.
XXX
The prison and the workshop were close together. Steve, Morita, Falsworth, and Dugan all slunk through the shadows together until they had to separate for their own tasks.
In the next couple hours following Steve’s return to the Commandos, Gabe had made a report over the bulky Hydra radio, saying that a large Allied force was less than 2 miles from their location. The trick had worked and soldiers were mobilizing to that direction, west of the town. Although Hydra thought it was relying on “their” scouts’ information. It would not take long for them to realize the lie. Hopefully it would be enough to time to get the Allied prisoners weapons and the townsfolk out of the way.
Steve and Morita dashed quickly alongside the brick wall of the workshop. After the report had gone through, any prisoners working the nightshift had been returned to their cells and only a handful of guards were left to watch over them and the factory. Every spare hand was sent to protect the plant from ghosts.
Steve stopped at the corner, raising his hand for Morita to halt as well. Peering around, the Captain saw two guards stationed in the alleyway. He whipped his shield like a Frisbee, taking out the guard closest to them. As it flew, he charged forward tackling the second sentry into the wall. Both crumpled before they had a chance to blink
Before Steve could straighten a gun pressed into the back of his helmet. “Halt oder sterben.” Halt or die. The third, patrolling guard did not get to make a second move as he was kicked in the knee. The man’s cry of pain was cut short as a sharp jab to the throat crushed his windpipe. Morita’s final kick sent the man into the ground.
“You can’t get all of them,” the short man said, brusquely. Steve just laughed and waved him along.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Steve whispered curiously.
“My dad was a mean drunk. It was either learning to block a hit or not be able to see for a week.” Morita answered without preamble.
Steve looked to his man, trying to keep the pity from his face. “I’m sorry.” Though it did explain a lot of Morita’s personality. The short, Nisei soldier was the least personable of them all. He rarely told stories of his family or life before the war. Of the short time Steve had known him, Morita had smile probably once or twice. His tone was typically flat and his opinion blunt. However, he was a skilled hand to hand fighter and was talented with manipulating the radios. Steve had heard through the grapevine of some infantrymen whispering doubts and harassments about his men, including Pearl Harbor. It had ended by the time Steve heard about it, though he didn’t know how. Morita barely blinked at the words and never rose to the bait.
“Don’t be. My old man also taught me not to dwell in the past. It only distracts from the present. No matter what he did, it couldn’t stop me.”
They ran in silence for a few more yards, before Morita spoke again, “he doesn’t trust us you know.”
Steve looked to him with a furrowed brow, “Who?”
“Bucky.”
“What do you mean? Of course he trusts us.”
“No. He trusts you, not us.” Morita clarified. The short man stared directly into his Captain’s confused look. A private would have never spoken to a captain in such a way, but speaking to Steve is what made the Commandos unique. “Well, someone had to say it.” Morita was beyond frank and he never really cared about how it made him seem to others.
Steve so desperately wanted to talk about Morita’s meaning, but loud clanging carries down the street. There wasn’t the time and they had reached their destination.
“I noticed this my first time around. The door is reinforced on the inside, but the panel above it should lead to a vent on the inside.”
Morita just stared at his captain, “Is this why you wanted me? Because I’m the smallest?”
“No you are Howling Commando and. . . um” At Morita’s glare, Steve decided to just admit it, “Fine, because you’re the smallest. But I used to be able fit in that.”
“Hey, you ditched that band wagon. You no longer get to sympathize.”
“Just, come on. I’ll give you a boost.” Steve said as he folded his hands into a step, easily lifting the man above his head, holding him there as he crawled into the vent. Steve waited in silence by the door, watching if anymore guards circled back this way. His enhanced hearing allowed him to hear voices in the distance, but couple of English words floating over made him realize that Falsworth and Dugan were along the way to success. There wasn’t much time left before their lie was discovered.
Suddenly the door popped open, Morita peering back out. “Come on, there’s a door this way.” Together they ran to a lower door that lead what appeared to be a lab. Steve was able to kick this door open, two scientists on the other side jumped in surprise.
“Legen sie ihre hände” Steve ordered in German. The lessons from Gabe were going astonishingly well. Put your hands up.
The captives obeyed, but not quietly. “Hail Hydra,” one said, as both crunched their teeth. They fell to the floor in seconds, choking on their saliva.
“No, god dammit.” Morita checked the men’s pulses. “What is with these guys?” The man who had not spoken could only have been in his early twenties. What could Hydra offer that would drive a man in the prime of his life to suicide over capture.
Gunfire blasts muffled through the walls. Steve turned to the table his mind reeling over the numbers and schematics of countless papers. He started folding them up, stuffing the sheets unceremoniously into a bag.
“Too late now, grab what you can and lets help the others.”
XX
Falsworth and Dugan forked away from the Captain and Morita. For once, Dugan was quiet as he stalked the Englishman’s heels. In the distance, many feet pounded on cobblestone streets as Hydra guards scrabbled to build an attack force.
The prisoners of war and men from the town were held close to the factory in an old stone barn had been converted to a prison. With the alert, only two guards were left patrol the door. After all the prisoners were locked up, what could they possibly do?
The bored guards snapped to attention at the sound of a catcall whistle. Cautiously, one investigated around the corner. As soon as he disappeared, a short scuffle sounded. The second guard barely took another step when he was cracked in the head with a rifle butt.
“Well, step one is complete,” Falsworth whispered.
“Now for the shit fest,” Dugan responded. Together they unlocked the heavy steel doors and pushed open slowly. The commandos were not sure, but assumed that there would be more guards on the inside. Which they rightly guessed, two more guards walked the two storied cells. The original stalls of the barn had been converted to cells and more were built into the hayloft. Each cube was packed with soldiers and townsmen and all had exhaustion written in their faces.
A few of the prisoners in the cells closest to the doors, noticed the newcomers immediately and were instantly at the bars.
Falsworth put a finger to his lips, asking for silence, never taking his eyes off the guards. He gestured for the large American to stay close, but Dugan was up the stairs in a shot. “Excuse me, Fritz.” The guard snapped his gun toward the intruder, the one on the first level did the same. The blue glow of the Hydra weapons hummed to life. The blond mustache curled in a smile, “I now have a stick of my own.”
The guard on the ground dropped with Falsworth‘s knife in his neck. Dugan shot the one in front of him, before the other could react. Between the two of them, the cages were opened and the men were freed in a matter of moments. The soldiers were organized, ready to take orders and almost 150 would fight to say free. The townsmen were sent to the back road and were told that their wives and children were going to be on their way. Those that didn’t stay to fight were to take any injured with them.
“I’ll clear the path to the guns, stay and wait for the opening or is that too much to ask?” Falsworth hissed to his boisterous companion, before slipping away into the dark.
Dugan had the sense to a least look a little sheepish at his unruliness. Dugan always found it difficult to take orders, preferring to make his own choices. As a Howling Commando, he had the liberty as a specialized soldier, but even then he was still taking orders. The blond just couldn’t help himself and working in tandem with Falsworth didn’t help. He did not have anything against the Englishman, who proved himself quite capable during their imprisonment, but the man seemed to have a perpetual stick up his lordly behind at times that made Dugan twitch.
He was definitely going to hear about this later.
Commanders from the captured units took charged of their men, once they were armed the soldiers would need to square up quickly to meet Hydra guards. The highest ranked officer was Warrant Officer named Johnson of the 101st. The short, black haired man in his 30s was used to giving orders and readily instilled himself as leader. His high and mighty attitude quickly wormed his way under Dugan’s thick skin. Power obvious went to this man’s head. Luckily for Dugan, Rogers had yet to show off any power surges. It did not seemed to be part of the Captain’s nature.
“We need to get weapons,” Johnson said.
“Once Falsworth clears the way, we’ll get armed. Then you make sure your men are ready.” Dugan replied curtly, peeking out the door for his British companion.
“There isn’t the time, Corporal. We have to move now.” Johnson couldn’t understand what the wait was for or why the under ranking soldier so completely dismissed his authority.
“I know my rank,” Dugan said, tapping his hat as if the man probably had not noticed. The corporal signal stitched to the front. “But I’m also a Howling Commando,” reveling the winged patch on his shoulder. “Captain America has a plan, but you need to listen to me,” he ground out, hoping Falsworth was on his way back, he was running out of his limited patience.
The look on Johnson’s face showed he clearly wasn’t pleased with the answer, but he didn’t challenge the name Captain America and Dugan thanked his lucky stars. A few tense moments later, a lithe form quietly snuck up to the barn.
“Alright, the weapons were where Captain pointed them out. None are Hydra weapons. Follow me.” Falsworth ordered. Johnson led his men forward without argument a stolen pistol in his hand. Once the soldiers filed out, Dugan escorted the townsfolk a few street down, pointing them to the woods. He could only hope they would make it without running into Hydra, but the big man was needed in the front. The civilians had a guardian angel watching their backs.
Dugan was knocked to his knees as a massive explosion rocked the town. Cursing profusely, the man tipped his bowler hat back to see a wave of smoke plum upwards.
XX
Gabe and Dernier darted between the streets toward the square. Steve had told them where he first saw the women were is in a pink building on the East side. Unfortunately, the Captain was not able to investigate further after the distress call.
Dernier was just about step out when a large number of guards marched into the square. Gabe grabbed the shorter man by the collar pulling back into the shadows. The both froze in place waiting for an alert yell to sound, but none came. This wouldn’t work, Hydra was gathering in the square. Building units and deploying rapidly, there was a constant flow of black clad men in the square.
“We’ll have to find another away,” Gabe whispered in French. There was no need for English between the two of them. The slunk through the shadows, hiding behind barrels and boxes only able to go a few feet at a time before more soldiers marched by every few minutes. It was an agonizingly long time to get to the pink building. Gabe cracked a window open, unlocking it from the inside.
The room the soldiers slipped into appeared to be the backroom of a tailors shop. Lengths of clothes and scraps of threads covered the tables. Gabe walked forward cautiously, light change in the room. The black soldier’s gun snapped up at the figure reveled in the glare. An old wood manikin stood in the corner.
Dernier patted him on the shoulder, the adrenaline was pumping through both of them. The shorter of the two peeked through the swinging door. At the all clear, the men crept up the stairs. It was quiet, setting them both on edge as they had yet to run into Hydra. The upper floors seemed to be living quarters, two doors in was the first locked one. Two hits with Gabe’s shoulder popped the old lock out.
The women inside shrank back. “It’s alright. We’re here to help you,” Dernier interjected. Gabe hung back watching the hallway. Precious moments passed as Dernier tried to convince the captives of their intent. The village was remote and had not heard the name Captain America. And then Gabe made a mistake. He turned his back, looking into the room and only just caught a glimpse of black out of the corner of his eye. Two shots cracked and both fell. The Hydra guard had a bullet in his head. Gabe lucked out with deep graze.
“We have to move now,” He said, tying off the cut. Hydra would have heard the shot and would be looking for the source.
“The tunnels,” A blonde teenager said suddenly. She leaped to her feet saying the town had catacombs beneath it, part of caves that were naturally formed.
“I really wish we knew about that earlier,” Gabe muttered. Booted feet were getting louder and louder.
“Get the women out. I’ll take care of them.” Dernier said, running off before Gabe could argue. The Commandos really needed to work on this teamwork thing.
The women were quite helpful once they had decided to trust the strangers. An older women acted as a nurse. She had been around the captives, helping take care of injures or sick. Bernice was a small woman with wrinkles around her eyes and graying hair, but steady fast. She told Gabe that the women were all held in the surrounding buildings, crammed into the living quarters above the stores as she bandaged his arm more securely.
The American led the way, passing two dead Hydra men along the way. He tried to wave the women to silence, but he couldn’t blame them from being frightened. They have had a hell of a time already.
The caves acted as sewers to the town, one of the entrances opened two buildings down. Guns and shouting carried from the opposite directions. Smoke began to darken the dawn sky. Gabe went first making sure the way was clear and heaved the cover open. Bernice guided the women and children into the hole. The tunnel would take allow the fugitives to get the edge of town, but they would have to exit to get to the woods.
In the next few minutes, the brave teen from earlier, Genevieve, followed Gabe to the surrounding buildings. The commando would clear the way and the girl encouraged the captives to escape. After everyone else had entered the tunnel, Gabe helped the blonde down into the dark, broken only by a couple of lanterns. Genevieve almost dropped a couple pistols from her pocket during her descent.
“What are you doing?” Gabe questioned. He had not seen the girl pick up the weapons as they cleared the buildings.
“What? You think just cause we’re girls, that we don’t know how to use a gun?” The girl asked innocently, she had a gleam in her eye and fire in her blood. Her home had been taken and family wounded. This girl, not much more than a child, was never going back to being a prisoner. Gabe just had to make sure that happened.
He closed the cover after himself. In the dark, dozens of eyes stared at him and it was nothing like giving a speech in school. These eyes were desperate and broken, lives depended on him.
“Follow me.”
XX
Dernier flew down the hallway, he kicked an oncoming Hydra guard down the stairs. The short Commando burst through the front door and stormed through the square. These foxes needed a rabbit to chase and Dernier was pretty fast.
Guns and shouts blasted in his wake, he takes a sharp corner and dust float as bullets collided with the brick walls. But this wasn’t a wild run, there was goal in mind.
Dernier jumped a crate, tripping over a screaming cat. Dodging between the narrow, cobbled streets suddenly opened to impossible large machines and mountains of rubble.
The mines
And explosives. Dynamite was housed in a separate building, typically away from living quarters or the mouth of the mine. Dernier burst into a couple of sheds until he found a small stone cottage with a blocky lock on the front. But it was more for show he guess as it popped opened after a couple of swings for a shovel.
Dernier froze in the threshold, the small building was completely packed with explosive, more than he could ever had imagined. Shouting was getting louder and there was no time to waste. As fast as he dared, the explosive expert loaded boxes of hazardous material into a mining cart and wired a running fuse.
He could see men on the cliffs where Falsworth, Gabe, and Bucky hide only hours before, the trick was done and Hydra was swarming in waves. But Dernier was better at his job, he lite his split fuse. One in the mine and to the main store. Jacques Dernier ran faster than he ever had before, bullets flew around him and his hat was blown from his head.
He made it to the houses when a familiar red beret was coming toward him. Falsworth. “Go back, Away,” he screamed, not realizing his was still speaking French. But it didn’t matter, with some chaotic backpedaling the Allied soldiers were now in an all-out retreat. Going as far as they could before time ran out.
Then time ran out.
XX
Bucky lay on his stomach, sniper rifle tucked into his shoulder. He was a decent shot, having one of the highest scores in basic. However, he had never used this caliber rifle before, but it was better than sitting on his hands.
He wound was not bothering him as much as he knew it should. But there were little about him that was as it should be anymore, he chalked it up to the position he was laying in.
Bucky did not remember a lot of what happened in Azzano, the pain, the lights, and voices were fleeting. The only thing he could think of to keep himself grounded during the ordeal was his ranking order and number, repeating over and over and over. He said it for hours, maybe days, until one voice broke the mantra.
Steve. The little guy from Brooklyn, who wasn’t so little anymore. His best friend that wasn’t supposed to be on the continent saved his sorry ass and more. It was still hard to process, whenever someone mentioned Steve. The skinny kid with a cough popped into his head before this broad super soldier.
Movement along the far left wall, brought Bucky’s eye to the scope. Many forms started floating in his direction. Although the light was poor, the people were easily not Hydra. He knew a woman’s figure when he saw it.
But guard leaning over the roof was not. Bucky exhaled, slowly pulling the trigger until it cracked and the man fell to the ground. The women on the ground jumped and screamed, but were quickly headed to him.
As the light grew, Bucky could see his fellow commando leading the way. The Howling Commandos. The guys were good people, soldiers and survivors. But in his heart, Bucky could not trust them. Maybe it was paranoia, but he was always on edge now. He ate little, slept less, but was still able to function without a problem.
Hydra Guard appeared, guns raised and singing. Gabe and Bucky shot and killed them, but some of the refugees went down as well.
“Shit,” He whispered, now wasn’t the time to deal with his problems.
Men poured from the right and he almost pooled the trigger if it wasn’t for the happy reunion of families and lovers. God, he almost shot someone he was trying to help. Soon enough, villagers were filing past him, most did not even see him as they walked into the woods. Gabe came up to him without needing to search.
Gabriel Jones was probably the easiest of the Commandos to get along with, not judgmental and always patient.
“You alright?” Bucky asked, not moving from his shooting position.
“Yeah, but I need to help Frenchie.”
“What happened?”
“We got separated, but,” The explanation was cut off with a massive explosion and the cliff where Bucky had been stabbed crumpled in the flames.
“Son of a bitch.”
XX
Smoke was everywhere, blinding and burning. Flames leaped toward the dawn and the screams of dying men followed.
Steve had lowered his goggles over his eyes in an attempt to keep debris out of his way. He and Morita ran out of the factory to chaos. Captain America rallied the freed POWs he crossed. Gathering courage and strength from the all American hero, the soldiers regrouped and prepared to followed orders. Through Morita was not sure the morale would last, as their faces were strained and eyes overly wide.
“Get it together, girls. There’s still a fight coming yet.” A brazen voice, carried over the commotion.
“Dugan!” Steve shouted, waving his man to his side.
“Cap, the cliffs blew sky high and I haven’t seen the others.”
“Get the men together, ready them to sweep left. We need to put a wall between Hydra and the civilians.”
The last of the men stumbled from the blast zone. They were covered with dirt and ash, coughing harshly from the grit in the air. Two figures, leaning on each other, hobbled up to the costumed commander. They were not recognizable until a few feet away, Falsworth and Dernier pulled up straighter when they made it.
“Captain,” Falsworth choked. The Brit was wearing the dust like a second skin, it smeared with the sweat on his face. Dernier looked just as dirty, he shook his head as if trying to clear it.
“You two, ok?” Mortia asked.
“Pardon?” Falsworth leaned in, turning his head trying to catch the question again.
“Dernier, did you do this?” Steve asked.
“Parlez plus fort. J'ai fait sauter les mines.” Speak louder. I blew up the mines. The mines were still cracking and falling. Dernier’s explosion had destroyed the cliff’s infrastructure.
“Hydra was all over those hills. Their forces are weaker now. Move out!” Captain America shouted. The soldiers threw into the charge. The army sweep through the town, pooling into the square and decimating the Hydra men still there. Gabe and Bucky met them on the way. Despite his injury, Bucky kept up with the charge as if he was not wounded at all, ready to cover Steve’s back again. Only to be set to the side again.
“Captain, I wish to fight with you,” Bucky requested, using his friend’s formal rank amongst strange soldiers. “Steve,” he pleaded.
“Buck, you’re still hurt. I can’t protect you in this. Once we clear the town, find a nest.” He moved on before Bucky could argue. Falsworth and Dernier still recovering from the blast flanked either side of the regiment. Dugan and Gabe followed Steve.
In the lead, Captain America charged into the forest. Dugan’s long stride paced his leader, pump action shotgun in constant motion. Gabe’s machine gun may have been the more effective weapon, but Dugan would always favor the shotgun.
The fighting lasted into the morning. Many of Hydra’s forces were killed in the eruption and survivors were still reeling when the Allied army struck, but they held their own. The freed prisoners fought with all the little strength they had left, and victory was hard won.
Late afternoon, SSR reinforcements found the smoking rubble the town under the thinly stretch control of Captain America and the remaining soldiers. Over 100 of the prisoners were killed in the fight. A handful of men, two of which were young townsmen, were still able to move and help the Commandos in securing the area. The villagers that had escaped were still in the woods, reunited families held their loves ones and mourned their dead. Bernice had returned to assist with the wounded, ordering her assistants with iron assuredly
“Well, Captain. I’m not sure you know what ‘reconnaissance’ means,” the surly Colonel Phillips shouted.
“Sorry Sir, but time was of the essence.” Steve replied respectfully. “We did manage to retrieve a number of documents from the lab. Perhaps Howard will be able to understand them.”
“Let’s hope, he’s useful. Give me the full report.”
When Steve was finally dismissed, he went to find his men and he didn’t have to look far. The Howling Commandos all sat together among the heaps of broken rocks. The specialty team looked like a bunch of dirty children. Their clothes were covered with mud and sweat, Falsworth was almost frantic in trying to beat the dust from his jacket as the others teased him. The Brit’s face was streaked as if he had tried to wipe the grime off.
Steve hung back for a moment watching his men. Bucky sat off to the side, pretending to listen, but Steve knew him well enough to tell when his friend was being insincere. Morita’s words floated in his mind and he could now see Gabe watching the dark haired man as well. Steve would need to have a talk with his friend as a friend. When Steve approach, his posture was straight and shield strapped to his back.
“What’s the word, Cap?” Dugan asked, taking a swig from his flask. The big man had his foot propped up on Gabe’s shoulder. It wasn’t hurting him, Dugan was just trying to annoy his friend, but Gabe was too tried to care.
“We are headed back to base with our salvage. There we have two days before our next target.” Steve surveyed the Commandos. “Injuries?” He questioned, looking sideways at Bucky.
“It’s been taken care of,” Bucky reluctantly answered. “It’ll be fine, by the time we get to England,” He continued, not looking at Steve.
“Just bumps and scraps for the rest of us, Captain.” Falsworth added.
“Then let’s move out,” Steve ordered. Quietly, for once, the Howling Commandos stood and started heading out of the small village. One that they didn’t even know the name of. As they walked through the square, the civilians that were gathered all stopped what they were doing and stared. For a moment, Morita expected a bad reaction until the area burst into cheering and clapping. The Assault squad was engulfed with people, men clapping them on the back, children gapping with wide eyed expressions, and one woman snagged Falsworth by his ascot and kissed him full on the mouth. The team’s movement was all but halted and it took several minutes to be cleared through the ecstatic people.
When they finally made it back to the Colonel Phillips, the Commandos were dragging their feet behind the sure footed Captain America. The men had been running hard for over almost 48 hours, and soon they had a ride back to the closest base. From there, they would fly to England.
Once settled and on the move, Steve leaned back and unbuckled his uniform. He had been wearing it for a long time and now that he was sitting still the heavy material was constricting. Soldiers had been directed to where the Commandos had left their vehicle, so his army jacket should eventually get back to him. Gabe had the foresight to grab K rations and canteens as they loaded up. Everyone dug in, cramming the virtually tasteless, prepackaged food as if it was a gourmet dinner. Morita and Dugan ate with zero consideration, opting to collectively shove as much in as they could at once. Falsworth attempted to eat with some refinement, but it was difficult in the back of a moving vehicle.
“Keep your grimy hands to yourself, Dugan,” Falsworth barked, barely managing to keep his biscuit as his comrade had tried to lift it right from the package.
Unperturbed, the big man just shrugged a shoulder, “you’re too slow,” he said as if it was obvious.
“Barbarian,” Falsworth huffed.
Wordlessly, Steve passed his ration’s chocolate bar to Bucky. His best friend had been avoiding his eye, but only hesitated a few seconds before taking the candy.
Gabe shook his head, “I still can’t believe that you don’t like chocolate.”
Steve just shrugged, “It’s too sweet.” He had never liked chocolate or very many sweets at all. His family had never been able to afford sugar for more than minimal cooking. His father used to tell him that most people put in in their coffee, but there had never been enough to spare for the Rogers’ family. Steve’s first experience with sweets was when he was 15 and Bucky had given him a peppermint candy. The treat was so strong it had turned his stomach and he had thrown up. Similar experience with chocolates had taught Steve that he should avoid sugary foods. He still didn’t eat any after the serum. Though it would not make him sick, just the memory was enough of a deterrent that made sweets unappealing.
Dernier patted his pockets, digging through them a couple of times with dust floating to the truck bed as a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Qui a une lumière? Je perdu le mien..” Who has a light? I lost mine. Bucky lit the French man’s smoke as well as his own.
“You never use to smoke, Buck.” Steve said offhandedly.
“Things change,” Bucky grumbled, taking a long drag.
“Smoking good for the nerves, Rogers,” Dugan declared loudly as he slapped Bucky hard on the shoulder. “You should try a cigar, Jimmy.”
Bucky cringed under the nickname even as Morita and Falsworth both instinctively responded to it. “Just Bucky or Barnes if you want, Dugan or not at all,” The New Yorker said sharply. Bucky wasn’t overly annoyed even with his tone. He was tired and sore, and had a tendency of being grumpy when he was sleepy.
“Whatever,” Dugan said, punctuating with a belch.