part 2

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new
n(y)o͞o/
adjective

already existing but seen, experienced, or acquired recently or now for the first time.

•••

when harry stepped off the train, rough ground under his soles, he wanted nothing more than to return to his mother. there was running, and yelling, and combats everywhere, and more orders being called than could ever be counted.

the front lines had just been sent out, and the waiting men were getting anxious, playing around with their bullets and smoking up their cigars while reading letters from their past.

a large sigh emerged from his throat, though he sucked it up, puffed out his chest, and he moved forward towards a table surrounded by men just in front of him, about twenty feet.

"hey, wait, son!" was behind him, practically in his ear, and harry whipped around to see a blond haired man, smoking a pipe and his yellow eyes cracking with happiness. "you can't talk with the officers until you've learned proper drill, mate."

"you're not british."

"nah, full blooded australian."

"isn't that where they send criminals?" the man's face fell a bit, giving him more of a sunken look.

"was." and he carried on the point out the lodging station.

the man he talked to was named johnson, and harry thought a lot of johnson through rifle practice, where he only got yelled at twice for not moving with the right timings and a few more for delaying an answer to his superiors.

and so harry got his tent, and figured he had more things he was told to carry than he had through his entire home life.

but when night came, the boys got rowdy again, only to fall silent as bombs went off in the distance. someone crying was heard as everything got tense, which resulted in a jar of whiskey being passed around, wet matches attempting a light and the noise getting louder, and harry felt he couldn't stick out more. he was quiet, and calm, and though his stew tasted like vomit, he dared not complain as the cook threw some at a group making too much movement about the pot.

and when he finally sat in his cot, surrounded by other young brits saying how happy they were to be there for their freedom from hitler's hell hold, harry couldn't help but think of the life he left behind.

and of course, harry thought of louis.

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