WWII Harringrove au
Where Steve's parents purchased him a draft deferment but Billy volunteered because he wanted to get the hell out of the run down house and away from the beatings from his old man when he didn't come home with enough money. Billy lied about his age, knew he'd be drafted in a year anyway.
Steve feels a profound sense of guilt as more men his age leave and he remains in his small town. One of just a few men left his age. The others denied or exempt with family farms to run or personal health difficulties. Steve feels like a chump and finally volunteers in late 1943.
Steve struggles through his training but eventually makes it to England by the spring of 1944. He is hopeless on his feet with many drills and tasks, but his commanding officer sees a special talent in him and volunteers Steve to enlist into the Army Air Corps. Steve joins the 101st Airborne as a paratrooper.
While Steve is at the main base in England he meets a loud and cantankerous young army officer who has risen through the ranks in his own right. Lieutenant Hargrove.
They become rivals.
Steve flouting respect for rank and pushing his luck when he's out on passes in town. Returning to base past curfew and drunker than a skunk.
Lt. Hargrove has threatened to court martial him, but often opts for putting Private Harrington through unnecessary drills in the cold driving English rain. Crawling on all fours through muddy pasture and jumping stonewalls. Running down countryside roads until Harrington is doubled over and cramping. Before Lt. Hargrove let's Pvt. Harrington clamor into the back of his jeep groaning. And they drive back to base.
On June 6, 1944 they both learn that they will be crossing the Channel and into the razor sharp teeth of the Nazi defenses on the coast of France. Lt. Hargrove is assigned with his men to a navy destroyer. Pvt. Harrington is given orders to go by air and drop behind enemy lines straight into the beast's waiting mouth.
They have one last meal together. A quiet understanding reached. A truce, as they exchange glances between bites. The camp wide siren blares. It's time.
They stand. A hand on one another's shoulder, the other hand in a desperate grasping handshake that takes each man by the forearm and holds tight.
"Take care of yourself you sonnuva bitch." Lt. Hargrove forces in a tight mouthed wish of luck.
"You too. Stubborn bastard." Pvt. Harrington smiles, his eyes betraying the grin.
The parting is shaking. A brittle break from one another as they walk in opposite directions. They spare each other one last glance before they leave.
It is not until August of 1945 that they see each other again. In Paris.
