My Grandfather was 14, he lied to enlist, and given the dire straits, he was allowed, thus the reason he was a medic. Give the kid a stretcher and let him go do his duty was the idea. This was.... very common in Canada at the time. Most of them were wildly underage.
They both know the truth, thus the whole Hang for this conversation. They know what's happening, and admitting it to each other helps them closer.
America's going to need more men if they try to hang 'em high.
**Chapter 11: The Lair of the Wounded**
The ascent was a slow, agonizing climb out of hell, a pilgrimage of the broken.
They moved in a silence that was heavy not with peace, but with the crushing weight of exhaustion and shared trauma. The frantic adrenaline of the ambush and the desperate firefight had long since burned off, leaving behind only the raw, throbbing reality of their injuries. Every step was a negotiation with gravity, a testament to a will that was being worn d
Mine as well. My Grandfather was a medic and an Engineer.
The things that he saw the Dutch had suffered, I remember a pair of Dutch lads had come through town back packing, and my grandfather took them in, fed them, gave them a safe place to sleep and sent them on their way with money the next morning. When my grandmother asked him why, he merely shrugged at her and said that it was a Canadian thing. Took me many years to lean what he meant, and I never forgot.
I played this war scenario out with a few old colleagues, and while the others dithered (nations) the general consensus was that the Netherlands wouldn't. Too much history there for them not to. Let's see who else has the kind of steel balls the Dutch have?
Chapter Seven
Saturday, December 7th, 2019
WORLD END: T-minus 95 days, 08 hours, and 00 minutes.
The Binnenhof, The Hague, The Netherlands.
The rain in The Hague was not the dramatic, freezing storm battering North America. It was a Hollandse motregen—a cold, persistent, grey drizzle that slicked the cobblestones of the Binnenhof courtyard and ran in rivulets down the ancient brickwork of the Ridderzaal, the Hall of Knights. It was the kind of rain that had weathered dyke
Thank you, that is educational! I might use that in the future, since our boys have to ride horses to the next action piece though, I think Jack would prefer that he not Carry the TNT.... Not because he's scared, but because it's detonate, he'd have to shake off all that dust, it'd be annoying...
I like the Agency of Theo in this chapter, he's no damsel in distress, though Sawyer treats him like one at times.
he maybe softer, an academic that would, in our time, be in university and rewarded for it, but he is also a survivor, he's made it so far just fine, and damnit people are gonna start respecting him, He's a Harding after all.
Yeah I was trying to reinforce... I think I miss-stepped though. I haven't decided if I keep it or not. probably not, but hey it doesn't hurt to be reminded of the stakes