Post by adrini on Oct 25, 2015 18:33:32 GMT -5
Battle of the Bulge, Arden Forest. Luxembourg. New Years Eve, 1944.
“Not where I want to be right now, Hall!” Alan said as a bogie went flew over their head and exploded behind them in the think cold hell they were currently in. The snow continued to fall as calls of ‘medic’ were heard and Private McNiter barely nodded before rushing off in their direction. “Charles!”
“He’ll be back when he’s done, leave it. We need that rod, and I don’t want to be here any longer then we need to be. You have the book, Professor.” Captain Tyler heard another wave coming and dunked behind a tree to avoid the blast, nearby the others did the same. More calls for medic rang out.
“Do you see free space to dig for foundations?” Dr. Hall screamed from his own tree. “Cause all I see is krauts trying take us to the next world!”
“Fine, do that reading thing you do. Give me something, Hall.” Lt. Alan Scott moved to the next tree just I time for the one he had been at to explode behind him, he winced as he moved from the splinters. “You docs are going to kill us.”
“How ‘bout you translate three thousand years of lost records and I wave the gun around.” Dr. Hall quipped back as another grenade hit. “See that hill, about six clips north-east? Just past that, I think.”
“You think? What the hell is think? That’s right into kraut central, you flat head!” Tyler took the chance after a flash bang and joined them in the trees. The good medic was still crawling around the field to see who could be saved.
“You want out, that’s our way out.” Dr. Hall, noted archaeologist, was already nursing three grazed bullets, two stab wounds and barely healed wrist. About normal for the crew at this point. The blows weren’t stopping, and the good doctor was making his way back. As usual carrying a good handful of dog tags.
“Just for the record I still hate war.” The man said as he rejoined his team. The bullets had stopped for a moment. “What’s the plan?”
“Mr. Egypt says we need to take that hill over there.” Scott motioned over. “Saw it with his past thing, ideas are always welcomed.”
“I actually have one.” Tyler said as he nursed his recent burn. “Give me that radio.”
Tossing over the case, Hall saw the man crank up the unit and connect the call. He mumbled a few words into the speaker. That done he leaned back on the tree.
“What did you do?” The medic asked, treating the same chemical wound that Tyler had.
“The Seventh are moving in, they’ll take the heat off for at least an hour. Professor, get to work.” Tyler said and closed his eyes for a moment. “We don’t got much left.”
Rushing to the hill with the GI’s keeping an eye out for hostiles Dr. Hall broke out his trowel and furiously worked. The gunfire began to come in heavier and the time was getting late when he called for the others.
“I have it, help me get it out of here!” He said and Tyler and Scott stood guard as the others dug in with their army shovels. “Just a few more seconds!”
Soon the staff was released from the earth. Tall and pure gold the ankh topped piece began to pulse and glow. Looking back at the activity Tyler cursed.
“Not again, there is no way we will ever be able to explain this to anyone-“
In the mist of the battle the war raged on, and more men lived that day then might have otherwise by virtue of a medic and everyone saw but no one remembered well enough to describe. The only note was that a poor soul had tried to get a trench going, based on the nearby disturbed dirt. But he hadn’t gotten far.
January 4, 1942. Fort Sheridan. Briefing Room.
We were children, playing dress up as heroes like we had for so long. Only instead of Howard Hughes or Babe Ruth they we were all dolled up for Uncle Sam. The war was an undeniable force, it swept into everything and we were swept up in the romance of it. Dreaming of easy battles and proud moments none of us knew what we were in for, but maybe that was for the best. If we had known I can’t say any of us would have come. I was nineteen, an infant. In a time that feels like it is, lifetimes ago. But it’s still something I remember so perfectly.
“I’m to do what, sir?” Lt. First Class Alan Scott wasn’t entirely sure he heard right. Still getting used to his highly starched uniform he had been called to a meeting with his C.O. to be assigned his first team. However this did not seem to be the case.
“It’s just a trip, you’re orders will list your date of return. The two men in question need to be taken to training. Private Tyler is with the Core of Engineers, he’s being trained in mechanics. Private McNiter is a consciences objector, a doctor. He’s been assigned as a medic. Both men are to report to their new posts by 0600 Tuesday, no later.” Major Getshien pushed the paper to him. “I know you want better jobs than this, and they’ll come. Just one day at a time. I believe that’s all, see you when you return.”
Alan stood and saluted, and left the room as the next appointment arrived shortly. As one of the men who joined the European Services before Pearl Harbor he had gone on a number of these missions. As the son of a WW1 vet and volunteer he had hoped to get a field command and do his part in this war. It was getting old, acting as a taxi service to egg heads and cowards.
Red Cross Station, Triage Room. Other side of camp.
I was twenty-four years old and done. Most people learned about the real horror of the war after, when they found the trains and camps. I knew before we even got in the war. In 1939, after a lifetime I had finally saved enough to see Europe, but instead of the dream trip I had worked so hard for I found myself smuggled out of Paris with a group of others that had been pulled out in time. As a doctor I treated wounds and tried to keep them alive as the resistance worked to get all of us out. Some of us made it, most didn’t. I had to stand by and watch as the SS lined up half the people I had been protecting and just shot them in the street. That was it for me. I finally got out and arrived home just in time to see the little tan envelope on the table with my name on it, calling me back to the war. The thought alone made me sick, but when armed guards show up at your house you don’t have much of a choice. Most of the people there had no idea what they were walking into, but I knew all too well. And I was there anyway.
“It’s a local rash.” Charles McNiter explained to the nurse, pointing to the deep red and leaking sore on the patient’s skin. “Native to the Lyon region of France he was stationed in. The cream we have will heal it but also scar it over and make it burn in the process. The people there make a cream that they swear by, and I saw it work once. You should be able to recreate it here. Just apply it when it inflames again and it should be gone in about four days. It’s common in the region, so if a young man who has been in the area comes in with a rash like this it’s a solid bet.”
Writing out the simple recipe (cream, witch hazel and salt) he handed off the list to the eager young woman. She hurried off and he turned his attention back to the young man in the bed. He had a bad case, almost sixty percent of his body, which meant he had been running missions with the resistance to even be in the area. And to be this covered had to have been a contact between them and the allied forces. He knew the rash well, he had experienced it himself when he worked with the resistance getting certain populations out of France ahead of the Nazi advance. The cream worked.
“Private.” The guard at the door was for him, to make sure he got to his assignment in time. Picking up his bag he sighed and walked to the door. He had committed the sin of not wanting to fight, it was no small crime. Having completed medic training he was off to whatever nightmare he was being thrown to, but at least he wouldn’t be adding to the death toll.
He arrived at a jeep, where a rather stern officer was waiting for him. The war sounded noble on paper, and there was no point arguing with the brass. They would see for themselves when they got there, and the wakeup call would be more than enough.
“Lieutenant.” He said simply and put his bag in the jeep. “Ready when you are, sir.”
“Private Tyler is at the annex, he’ll be ready when we arrive.”
COE Annex, North Camp.
The war, you may as well be asking me about mars. Rex Tyler existed before the war, there’s even evidence, but that was someone else entirely. Another world. I was your dime-a-dozen, seen that before dough-boy. There were millions of us. I had rushed to finish high school so I could sign up. If I had my high school degree I could qualify for the SOE and work on bridges and construction, my uncle said Uncle Sam would need men who knew how to keep his men moving. I even skipped graduation to attend basic, but that’s what we did. The japs had pounded us at Pearl Harbor and we needed to pound them back, it was simple.
I had no clue what I was walking into, and on some level I knew it. I wouldn’t own to it at the time but I was terrified. I had orders for Briton to work with the RAF and SOE, to help the flow of supplies into occupied territories. The file had included directions on how to write a will and suggested I have one on file. I was eighteen, and I had a will. There is no way that doesn’t scare someone.
“Full kit, Private.” It was the fifth time. Checking, for the fifth time, Rex saw that he did indeed have his complete kit. He had even shined them so they looked nice, largely because he had forgotten to bring a book to the war. If he ever did this war thing again he would bring a book.
His entire bunk was immaculate. The Staff Sergeant loved it, awarded him all kinds of not chewing him out for the neatness but the praise had nothing to do with why. SOE recruits used their skills on the base for practice. He actually had the bulk of the camp memorized, including the medical wing.
Bragging to his high school friends about his plans to join up had been fun, even gotten him a few dates. But working on the broken water heater in that building he saw a sight that no one talked about, and the visions of broken bodies refused to leave his head. There was no denying that someday very soon one of the bodies in those beds could be him. It was one thing to know it, but another thing entirely to see it. Now he just had to find a way to live with it.
The horn sounded outside and he, in his perfect uniform, grabbed his bag and engineering kit and walked out. This was it, the real start of the war for him. There was no going back.
He put his bag and kit in the back seat and took the seat in the front next to the officer who was escorting his and the medic in the back to their assignments in London. The two weren’t talking and glancing at the man in the back he saw why. The insignia on this collar, an objector. They generally weren’t talked about well. The possibility of conversation went out the window and once again Rex began to wish that he had remembered to bring a book. However his literary longing was interrupted as a gold flash took over the car and, for a moment, everything went dark.
“Not where I want to be right now, Hall!” Alan said as a bogie went flew over their head and exploded behind them in the think cold hell they were currently in. The snow continued to fall as calls of ‘medic’ were heard and Private McNiter barely nodded before rushing off in their direction. “Charles!”
“He’ll be back when he’s done, leave it. We need that rod, and I don’t want to be here any longer then we need to be. You have the book, Professor.” Captain Tyler heard another wave coming and dunked behind a tree to avoid the blast, nearby the others did the same. More calls for medic rang out.
“Do you see free space to dig for foundations?” Dr. Hall screamed from his own tree. “Cause all I see is krauts trying take us to the next world!”
“Fine, do that reading thing you do. Give me something, Hall.” Lt. Alan Scott moved to the next tree just I time for the one he had been at to explode behind him, he winced as he moved from the splinters. “You docs are going to kill us.”
“How ‘bout you translate three thousand years of lost records and I wave the gun around.” Dr. Hall quipped back as another grenade hit. “See that hill, about six clips north-east? Just past that, I think.”
“You think? What the hell is think? That’s right into kraut central, you flat head!” Tyler took the chance after a flash bang and joined them in the trees. The good medic was still crawling around the field to see who could be saved.
“You want out, that’s our way out.” Dr. Hall, noted archaeologist, was already nursing three grazed bullets, two stab wounds and barely healed wrist. About normal for the crew at this point. The blows weren’t stopping, and the good doctor was making his way back. As usual carrying a good handful of dog tags.
“Just for the record I still hate war.” The man said as he rejoined his team. The bullets had stopped for a moment. “What’s the plan?”
“Mr. Egypt says we need to take that hill over there.” Scott motioned over. “Saw it with his past thing, ideas are always welcomed.”
“I actually have one.” Tyler said as he nursed his recent burn. “Give me that radio.”
Tossing over the case, Hall saw the man crank up the unit and connect the call. He mumbled a few words into the speaker. That done he leaned back on the tree.
“What did you do?” The medic asked, treating the same chemical wound that Tyler had.
“The Seventh are moving in, they’ll take the heat off for at least an hour. Professor, get to work.” Tyler said and closed his eyes for a moment. “We don’t got much left.”
Rushing to the hill with the GI’s keeping an eye out for hostiles Dr. Hall broke out his trowel and furiously worked. The gunfire began to come in heavier and the time was getting late when he called for the others.
“I have it, help me get it out of here!” He said and Tyler and Scott stood guard as the others dug in with their army shovels. “Just a few more seconds!”
Soon the staff was released from the earth. Tall and pure gold the ankh topped piece began to pulse and glow. Looking back at the activity Tyler cursed.
“Not again, there is no way we will ever be able to explain this to anyone-“
In the mist of the battle the war raged on, and more men lived that day then might have otherwise by virtue of a medic and everyone saw but no one remembered well enough to describe. The only note was that a poor soul had tried to get a trench going, based on the nearby disturbed dirt. But he hadn’t gotten far.
Ultimate Justice Society of America
Chapter 1:
Fate's Drawing Hand
January 4, 1942. Fort Sheridan. Briefing Room.
We were children, playing dress up as heroes like we had for so long. Only instead of Howard Hughes or Babe Ruth they we were all dolled up for Uncle Sam. The war was an undeniable force, it swept into everything and we were swept up in the romance of it. Dreaming of easy battles and proud moments none of us knew what we were in for, but maybe that was for the best. If we had known I can’t say any of us would have come. I was nineteen, an infant. In a time that feels like it is, lifetimes ago. But it’s still something I remember so perfectly.
“I’m to do what, sir?” Lt. First Class Alan Scott wasn’t entirely sure he heard right. Still getting used to his highly starched uniform he had been called to a meeting with his C.O. to be assigned his first team. However this did not seem to be the case.
“It’s just a trip, you’re orders will list your date of return. The two men in question need to be taken to training. Private Tyler is with the Core of Engineers, he’s being trained in mechanics. Private McNiter is a consciences objector, a doctor. He’s been assigned as a medic. Both men are to report to their new posts by 0600 Tuesday, no later.” Major Getshien pushed the paper to him. “I know you want better jobs than this, and they’ll come. Just one day at a time. I believe that’s all, see you when you return.”
Alan stood and saluted, and left the room as the next appointment arrived shortly. As one of the men who joined the European Services before Pearl Harbor he had gone on a number of these missions. As the son of a WW1 vet and volunteer he had hoped to get a field command and do his part in this war. It was getting old, acting as a taxi service to egg heads and cowards.
Red Cross Station, Triage Room. Other side of camp.
“It’s a local rash.” Charles McNiter explained to the nurse, pointing to the deep red and leaking sore on the patient’s skin. “Native to the Lyon region of France he was stationed in. The cream we have will heal it but also scar it over and make it burn in the process. The people there make a cream that they swear by, and I saw it work once. You should be able to recreate it here. Just apply it when it inflames again and it should be gone in about four days. It’s common in the region, so if a young man who has been in the area comes in with a rash like this it’s a solid bet.”
Writing out the simple recipe (cream, witch hazel and salt) he handed off the list to the eager young woman. She hurried off and he turned his attention back to the young man in the bed. He had a bad case, almost sixty percent of his body, which meant he had been running missions with the resistance to even be in the area. And to be this covered had to have been a contact between them and the allied forces. He knew the rash well, he had experienced it himself when he worked with the resistance getting certain populations out of France ahead of the Nazi advance. The cream worked.
“Private.” The guard at the door was for him, to make sure he got to his assignment in time. Picking up his bag he sighed and walked to the door. He had committed the sin of not wanting to fight, it was no small crime. Having completed medic training he was off to whatever nightmare he was being thrown to, but at least he wouldn’t be adding to the death toll.
He arrived at a jeep, where a rather stern officer was waiting for him. The war sounded noble on paper, and there was no point arguing with the brass. They would see for themselves when they got there, and the wakeup call would be more than enough.
“Lieutenant.” He said simply and put his bag in the jeep. “Ready when you are, sir.”
“Private Tyler is at the annex, he’ll be ready when we arrive.”
The war, you may as well be asking me about mars. Rex Tyler existed before the war, there’s even evidence, but that was someone else entirely. Another world. I was your dime-a-dozen, seen that before dough-boy. There were millions of us. I had rushed to finish high school so I could sign up. If I had my high school degree I could qualify for the SOE and work on bridges and construction, my uncle said Uncle Sam would need men who knew how to keep his men moving. I even skipped graduation to attend basic, but that’s what we did. The japs had pounded us at Pearl Harbor and we needed to pound them back, it was simple.
I had no clue what I was walking into, and on some level I knew it. I wouldn’t own to it at the time but I was terrified. I had orders for Briton to work with the RAF and SOE, to help the flow of supplies into occupied territories. The file had included directions on how to write a will and suggested I have one on file. I was eighteen, and I had a will. There is no way that doesn’t scare someone.
“Full kit, Private.” It was the fifth time. Checking, for the fifth time, Rex saw that he did indeed have his complete kit. He had even shined them so they looked nice, largely because he had forgotten to bring a book to the war. If he ever did this war thing again he would bring a book.
His entire bunk was immaculate. The Staff Sergeant loved it, awarded him all kinds of not chewing him out for the neatness but the praise had nothing to do with why. SOE recruits used their skills on the base for practice. He actually had the bulk of the camp memorized, including the medical wing.
Bragging to his high school friends about his plans to join up had been fun, even gotten him a few dates. But working on the broken water heater in that building he saw a sight that no one talked about, and the visions of broken bodies refused to leave his head. There was no denying that someday very soon one of the bodies in those beds could be him. It was one thing to know it, but another thing entirely to see it. Now he just had to find a way to live with it.
The horn sounded outside and he, in his perfect uniform, grabbed his bag and engineering kit and walked out. This was it, the real start of the war for him. There was no going back.
He put his bag and kit in the back seat and took the seat in the front next to the officer who was escorting his and the medic in the back to their assignments in London. The two weren’t talking and glancing at the man in the back he saw why. The insignia on this collar, an objector. They generally weren’t talked about well. The possibility of conversation went out the window and once again Rex began to wish that he had remembered to bring a book. However his literary longing was interrupted as a gold flash took over the car and, for a moment, everything went dark.
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