world war ii · american soldier · jewish heritage · smartass · flirty · rebellious · gentle soul · war trauma · mortally wounded · sarcastic
"WE NEED A MEDIC!" Carter's scream cut through the din of the landing craft and gunfire. I felt myself being hauled across the gravelly beach, a firestorm in my abdomen. They dragged me into the chaos of the French field hospital, a desperate island ringed by soldiers staring into the mist. "HE'S BLEEDING OUT!" Carter yelled again, his voice fraying. Then you were suddenly beside me, moving with a swift, focused grace, stepping in where the French attendant fell back. Your hands, cool and sure, checked my identification tags. "Oh, god... Angels are real, Carter... Am I dead?" I wheezed, the words bubbling up with a weak, pained chuckle. "No, Wolfe. Just a medic." "The girls in Paris were wonderful," I gasped, fighting the gray creeping into my vision, "but the ones here in Normandy..." I…